


Black Light

by literalbees



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A.I.M., Blackmail, Brain Damage, College, Engineering, F/M, Flirting While Fighting, Harry likes to drink, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Major Character Injury, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Slow Build, Swearing, injury to reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:29:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 65,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literalbees/pseuds/literalbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re a college student, desperate for money and a way into your chosen industry, so with your powers you take up moonlighting as a hired villain while also helping out your favorite teacher--and the secretly nefarious organization she belongs to. As your career progresses you strike up a rivalry with everyone’s favorite masked hero, Spider-Man, while also beginning a romance with your classmate Peter Parker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet Cute, Meet Fight

**Author's Note:**

> If you have Chrome I recommend using the InteractiveFics extension to customize the fic to actually read your name, it makes it a little more fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My interactive fics extension messed up the reader's name thing, but it's fixed now. I'm embarrassed.

If in high-school someone had told you that you would become a supervillain for an easy way into your chosen industry and to pay for college tuition, you would have laughed. You? A supervillain? First off, you were too busy with school to even date, let alone lead a double life with a secret identity. Secondly, you didn't have an evil bone in your body! You could never hurt even the ugliest spider!

You learned quickly that college can change a person. Which, you know sounds a tad dramatic, but school can be a lot!

This was your third solo job, beforehand you'd been strictly regulated to assisting in larger jobs your professor orchestrated, but now you felt confident enough to start doing small things on your own. No evil mastermind schemes yet, you were too busy with school to try anything on a larger scale on your own, and you felt that maybe you should start off practicing your petty skills first. Which was how you ended up on the roof of a high security jewelry store on a Tuesday night in a black and indigo catsuit with your face hidden under a mask.

“And just what do you think you're doing, ma'am?”

You spun around, caught mid escape, raising something resembling a mad scientist's gun, your spoils from the break-in in a semi-transparent black pouch tied to your utility belt. The diamonds inside glittered.

“Ah. Spider-Man. Figured I'd run into you at some point, just didn't think it'd be so early in my career.” You spoke with a false accent whenever you were doing jobs. You didn't want to run the risk of anybody recognizing your voice. “Tell me, what sort of spider is red and blue?”

Spider-Man raised his hands slightly, palms open and at chest level, facing you, you guessed he was eying your weapon under his mask. “I usually wait to tell my origin story to girls after we get to know each other.” He nodded to your hand. “That doesn't look like an ordinary gun you got there.”

You looked toward the weapon in your grip. “Oh, this old thing? Just something I've been experi-” You were caught off guard by a swift web shot out of- was that out of his hand?

Your gun knocked out of your hand and exploded on impact with the wall.

“Oh, shit-!”

 _Guess he didn't see that coming, did he?_ You took advantage of the loud distraction and began to run for it, hoping to get away before someone called the police. You reached the edge of the building and realized you were on the wrong side, your pre-planned path was on the other side of Spider-Man. You hesitated a moment to long, and heard the sound of a second web shoot towards you, spinning sideways just in time for it to land where your right foot had been seconds before. He was running towards you, you had nowhere to go, trapped on the edge of the rooftop. You weren't confident enough with your acrobatic skills to jump across the whole street to the next building, so you took an uncharacteristic risk instead, and went straight to punch him in the face, the air around your fist humming as it began to glow an indigo purple. He dodged, moving just slightly to the side, and stumbling.

Taking advantage of the space between him and the now charred brick wall, you crouched, feeling the energy build up in your feet, the air humming and some of the loose dirt starting to vibrate away from your feet. Your feet began to glow indigo, and you used the energy to jump up a story to the attached building next door, grabbing onto the ledge and hauling yourself onto the new rooftop. There was a whoosh, and Spider-Man landed six feet in front of you, dropping from a web.

“What even is your costume anyway? Are those pointy things ears?”

“It's a work in progress, okay?”

“Were you going for like, a Catwoman thing? I mean, I guess I get it since you're a cat burglar and all but-”

“It's not supposed to be like Catwoman!”

“Sure thing, kitty-cat.”

“Whatever, _Spider-Man._ Like you made your costume all on your own-”

“I did, actually.” He shot out another web in an attempt to stick your feet to the ground again and stop you from escaping. You were ready this time. Your disguise might not have the best design, and you might not have much experience fighting superheroes, but you still caught on quick. You spun out of the way, and your feet and hands began to glow as you crouched, building up force to pounce. If he was going to call you a cat, you might as well roll with it.

“Okay, seriously, what the hell is up with the glowing shit? What is that?”

“Not sure, honestly.” Your feet were starting to vibrate in your boots, and you leaped, aiming for his head- he ducked, and you rolled, landing on your shoulder on the other side, rolling in a somersault and coming up in another crouch. You jumped up, spinning around, and he was coming towards you, swinging on a string of web, feet out ready to kick you down, and you were bracing yourself to jump aside and catch him in the chest with a glowing indigo arm when--

“Here, kitty-kitty-!”

FWAM. Your arm collided right across his logo, the web snapped, he gasped as the air was knocked out of him and he went straight down, landing on his back with a heavy thud.

“That's for calling me ma'am earlier!” The indigo light faded from your arm and the humming in the air quieted. You jumped back down to where your gun had exploded to collect the scraps. You couldn't risk anyone stealing your tech, you found as many pieces as you could and tucked them into a spare belt pocket. Now you were in a real hurry because you could hear distant sirens. As you finished, you looked up and saw Spider-Man attempting to get up, looking over the edge of the higher building at you and felt a surge of self-satisfaction that you'd been able to knock him down so hard.

Even though you couldn't see his actual eyes, you knew you two had locked eye contact. You grinned, showing your teeth. “Nice meeting you, Spidey! Maybe I'll see you around sometime!” You gave a little sassy salute, running off towards your preplanned escape route and disappearing, leaving nothing behind but a charred brick wall, a strangely dust free circle of rooftop, and a growing bruise on Spider-Man's chest to remember your fight by.

* * *

 

Professor Noble's class was one of your favorite classes, not only was it on the subject you had chosen to base your life around, but it was just _fun._ You were always one of the first ones there these days, eager to get a good seat in the crowded auditorium. Materials ready to begin taking notes, you sat back and doodled as the classroom around you slowly began to fill up.

“Alright, class! Does everyone have their materials out and ready to go?” Professor Noble walked in through one of the side doors. “I see you all do, very good! Who remembers where we left off last class?” She dropped her bag onto the desk beside the podium at the front, and placing her laptop on the podium opening it up to find the power point for the class.

Another student called out where they had left off, and class began.

Six minutes in, the side door near the front of the class that Noble had walked through swung open, and a frazzled student rushed in, stopping when he saw everyone looking at him.

“Late again, Parker.” Noble shook her head at him. “Find a seat, get out your notes.”

He grinned sheepishly, and slid into the open desk beside you. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, pausing in your note taking. He was pulling out a spiral notebook, and rummaging for something to write with. He paused, feeling eyes on him, and made eye contact with you.

_Oh, no. He's hot._

You swallowed, blushing slightly, and offered him your spare pen silently. He accepted, finger brushing yours, and winked as he clicked it with his thumb. You looked away, trying not to burst out in a nervous grin.

“Y/n! Perhaps you have some ideas to share? I know you've been doing your own personal research into Stark tech,” Noble called on you, catching you by surprise.

“Oh, uhm, yeah, I do-” you cleared your throat, feeling eyes on you. Normally you enjoyed the attention, you knew you were intelligent and like to show off. You glanced at—what was his name? Parker? He was grinning at you. You looked away quickly and shifted in your seat, crossing your legs. “Yeah. So, I was thinking about how Stark could potentially use his Iron Man tech for prosthetics or even for mobility aids for people with paralysis...” And off you went, as soon as you started talking about your ideas, the whole world melted away, all you could think of was the bright sparkling future you were speaking about in your head.

As you continued talking, people looked away, either bored or taking down notes of your ideas, knowing Noble had a habit of using them for future class discussions. You finished speaking, and stole a glance at Parker again. His shit eating grin was replaced by genuine interest. You smiled, embarrassed at being caught looking once again, and looked away.

Nearly two hours later, class ended and students hurriedly began packing, ready to run to their next classes or wherever else they needed to be. You were in no rush, this was your last class of the day and you had five hours before you needed to be at Professor Noble's laboratory, so you packed at a leisurely pace.

“Hey.”

You looked up to find Parker standing in front of your desk, backpack slung over just one shoulder. You gave a casual smile in greeting. “Parker, right?”

“Peter Parker.”

“Right. You're the late kid.” You grinned.

He laughed. “Busy guy. What's your name?”

You gave him your first name.

“There a last name that goes with that?” He smiled down at you, standing just at the edge of your personal bubble.

“Who wants to know?”

“Just that I have a friend who knows Stark personally, and he might like to hear some of your ideas.”

“They're just ideas, I'm sure he's already thought of them.”

“You'd be surprised how busy he is with other stuff.”

“Y/l/n.”

“What?”

“That's my last name.” You smiled up at him from your seat, closing your bag, and standing up.

“Y/n Y/l/n. That's pretty.”

You grinned. “It's alright.”

“So, Y/n Y/l/n, how about I get my friend to introduce you to Iron Man?”

You paused. This Peter guy was pretty cute, and Noble would kill for access to Stark's labs. You knew because she almost had.

Peter was waiting, staring at you eagerly for a response.

“How about you take me out to coffee and I'll think about it?”

His face split into a huge grin. “I know a great place not too far from here.”

You grinned back, and followed him out the door.


	2. Noble's Super-Duper Secret Laboratory of Doom

Coffee with Peter was arguably the most fun you'd had in weeks. He was witty, smart, cute as hell, and just the right amount of dorky for you to know this was all just genuinely him, no showing off, no acting. It was refreshing. It wasn't often you got to spend time with someone your own age who was just about as smart as you were.

Needless to say, you were practically floating on air when you walked into Noble's Super-Duper Secret Laboratory of Doom five hours later. That's what you called it in your head, anyway, Noble just called it her “private lab.”

“Ah! Y/l/n! Right on time, as usual.” She rolled away in a sleek steel office chair from a massive unrecognizable hunk of shining metal and colorful wires, suspended from the ceiling by three large chains. You didn't know what the hell that thing was, but you'd nicknamed it The Heart due to it's vague resemblance to the muscle that was leaping giddily in your own chest at that very moment.

“What am I working on today, Professor?” you asked, hanging your bag on a hook by the door and grabbing a work apron, gloves, and goggles from a shelf in the corner.  
“I'd love it if you would continue work on some of your experimental ray-guns. Do you have the one you borrowed for your personal errand last night?”

 _Oh, fuuuck._ “Oh, um-- about that--” you chuckled nervously as you wandered back to your bag, reaching inside for your utility belt and finding the pouch with the scraps from the gun that Spider-Man had knocked out of your hand. “I sort of ran into a little trouble last night.”

“Trouble? What sort of trouble?” The ratcheting sound of Noble's wrench at her workbench stopped.

Turning around, you lifted up the scraps in your rubber-gloved hand. “I ran into Spider-Man. He knocked it out of my hand, and it exploded.” Quickly, before Noble could berate you for being clumsy. “I got all the scraps, and if I _did_ leave anything behind, nobody will be able to figure out what it was without all the main pieces.”

Seemingly satisfied, your professor nodded. “Did anyone see you besides that... Bug?”

You shook your head, walking back to your own bench and dropping the scraps there. “No. I used my false accent, just in case.”

“So detail oriented. It's what makes you such an excellent engineer!” Noble shot you a grin, which you returned. She took the shapeless chunk of yet even more wires and metal and rolled over to The Heart and around to the other side of it, and you heard the sound of metal hitting metal and a wrench screwing things into place. “I assume you fought him. How did it go?”

“I kicked his a- ahem, I mean, I won. The only thing he managed to do was knock the gun out of my hand, because he caught me by surprise. Which worked out pretty well, because now I know my current design explodes on impact with hard surfaces.”

“I suppose you'd better fix that if you intend to use it for more petty errands.”

“I think it might get more use than just for petty work, Professor.” You paused. “You know that Parker guy?”

“The late one? Brilliant student, but he's always so frazzled. I almost considered recruiting him for my side project, you know. Just wasn't reliable enough.”

You grinned at the implied compliment. “Yeah, Parker. He said he knows someone who can introduce me to Tony Stark. If I can meet him, I can probably find a way to get into his labs somehow--”

Your professor jumped to her feet, sending her wheeled work chair spinning away. “Y/l/n, if I can get my hands on even a piece of the Iron Man suit, or even better, information about the arc-reactor, it would change everything. It would take my work to the next level, I would finally-”

Something exploded out of the bottom of The Heart in a burst of white sparks that bounced of the clean smooth white floor, taking Noble's attention away.

“Oh, hell-” she rushed, crawling underneath the hanging monstrosity to find the problem, as you waited on standby with a fire extinguisher. After a few moments, realizing that there was no more risk of flames, you returned to your workbench to begin rebuilding the gun that Spider-Man had destroyed.

Four hours passed, and it was almost an hour til midnight. Time to call it a night, you had papers to work on the next day. Noble was still busy working on pieces for The Heart, blueprints scattered across half of the rubber mat that was laid out across her stainless steel table.

“I'm heading out, Professor,” you called over your shoulder as you placed your goggles on their shelf and peeled off your gloves.

“I expect to see you here at the same time tomorrow, unless something pops up to get you closer to Stark and his labs,” she said flatly, looking up at you from the nest of tubes and wires in her hands.

“Absolutely, Professor. I'll email if anything comes up.”

She looked back down, nodding, immediately consumed by her work once again. You glanced at The Heart hanging behind her, looming frozen in the air. You blinked, half expecting it to start beating, and looked away. Slinging your bag over your shoulder after shrugging on your coat, you reached into your pocket to pull out your phone, gently shutting the door behind you. Scrolling through your notifications—a missed call from your friend at Xavier's, a few texts from your friend Stacy (“Girl, the dick I just had cleared my skin and cured my chronic stress issues”), some social media notifications, and at the bottom—a text from Peter Parker. Your heart did a tiny jump. A text already? You opened it.

From Peter: Hey, Y/n. I had a lot of fun today at coffee. What do u say to a whole meal sometime? My treat!

He even punctuated the end with a grinning emoji and a candy emoji. What a dork.

Smiling, you typed back as you walked down the abandoned subway rail, and hit send.

From you: I'd love to! What are you thinking? Lunch? Dinner?

As you were about to lower your phone and click the lock button, the three dots appeared, indicating he was typing back.

Peter: Well, I didn't wanna b too forward, but dinner is exactly what I had in mind. U wanna pick when?

You: I assume you have a place in mind??

Peter: U like Thai food, right?

You: Love it

Peter: I kno I said u should pick the time, but is tomorrow too soon??

You almost giggled.

You: I have a meeting with Prof. Noble tomorrow night

Peter: Oh yeah no that's okay we can do dinner another time

You: But I'll be free after 8:30pm. Is that too late?

Peter: You really had me there for a second! I can meet u at the school and take u to the Thai place from there?

Shit. Now you'd have to get out of weapons-of-mass-distruction-workshop-hour even earlier. Why hadn't you developed a jetpack yet to get you out of dealing with traffic and the subway?

You replied to Peter with a simple “Perfect!” and pocketed your phone, sneaking back into a public terminal. Your phone dinged, but you waited until you were seated on the subway to check it.

It was Peter again just saying he was looking forward to dinner. You smiled, and responded with a “Me too! See u then” and a smiley face, before going home and collapsing into your soft bed, putting in earbuds to drown out the sounds of your roommate Stacy apparently going for round two with this month's beau.

* * *

 

You woke up the next day before Stacy and set about cooking yourself some breakfast, making a little extra for her knowing she'd be up soon. That girl could never sleep in past ten.

It was nine thirty when she came out of her room, stretching and yawning, plump figure clad in nothing more than a long t-shirt and booty shorts.

“Hey, girl!” she gave you her standard morning greeting, brushing a strand of straight blonde hair behind her ear. “Aw, is this for me?” She beamed at you.

“It sure is, help yourself,” you grinned back at her, having just sat down a few minutes ago to get started on your own helping.

“You're a goddamn angel, sometimes,” she reached for a plate and served herself some of the meal you'd cooked for the both of you. “How was your day yesterday?”

You took a sip of your morning beverage. “Pretty good. Went out to coffee with this guy after Noble's class, and we're getting dinner tonight.” You looked at her over your cup for her reaction, she was always telling you to go out and have some fun.

“Oh my god! Yes! Is he cute?”

“Pretty cute, yeah. He's smart, too, so far, which is cool.”

“What's his name? I'm looking him up on Facebook right now,” she said, getting up to retrieve her phone from her room.

You chuckled nervously, “Um, Peter Parker?”

She returned, sitting into her chair with a plop, and held her phone out across the table for you to look at the screen. “Is this him?”

“Yeah, that's him.” You grinned. “What do you think?”

“He's cuuute! And he looks like a fucking dork. He's perfect for you,” she grinned.

“Stacy, oh my god,” you laughed.

“If you don't at least get some tongue tonight I'm going to be very disappointed,” she gave you a stern look over the top of her phone, which she struggled to hold before cracking out into a massive smile. “He's shared some good stuff. Funny guy. I approve.”

You laughed. “Thank you.” You took a large bite of your food. “I'm gonna watch a few hours of Netflix before I finish off some essays, you got plans?”

“Shit, I'm going nowhere today. I'm in.”

You and Stacy spent the better part of four hours watching Netflix shows in your shared living room, both still in your pajamas. As the credits rolled, you checked your phone.

“Ugh, it's one. I should work on my papers.”

“Bring your laptop out here, you can work on them while we watch more TV!”

You groaned. “I get distracted. And I have two of them to work on, and then I have to go to my workshop thing and then I have to go straight to dinner after that-”

“Can I at least help pick out your outfit?” She looked at you with her best subtle puppy eyes.

You paused. Sighed. And then nodded. “But nothing outlandish, we're just getting Thai food, okay?”

She made a small fist pump motion. Stacy was one of your more stylish friends, and she always jumped at the chance to dress other people up. Normally you'd refuse, but she never dressed you too far out of your comfort zone and always still made you look like you. Just a slightly cuter you than usual.

You spent a solid four hours working on your papers, only stopping once for a snack. Eventually you had to call it quits because of how sore your fingertips were getting from typing away furiously on your laptop. Stretching your arms, you looked at the clock on the bottom of your screen. “Fuuuuck,” you sighed, relaxing your muscles.

“Hey! Y/N, you should shower so we can get you ready!” Stacy popped her head into your room. Was she ever not smiling? “How're the papers coming along?”

“I finished one,” you said, slumping over your desk and hitting the save button to preserve your progress. “I'm getting pretty close on the other one, I can finish it later though.” You cracked your knuckles, and pushed yourself away from your desk as you stood. “Pretty sure my blood-stream is like, eighty percent caffeine at this point.”

Stacy laughed. “Nice. I'll see you when you get out of the shower with a few outfits ready,” she declared, striding over to your closet.

Your stomach leaped into your throat. Was your suit in your closet, or had you remembered to stash it in the box under your bed?

Stacy threw open the closet door, and started rifling through your dresses and jackets. Your disguise wasn't there, and you let out a soft sigh in relief.

“What are you waiting for? Go clean up!”

You laughed. “Okay, okay, mom,” you teased, and left for the bathroom.

You and Stacy shared a single bathroom, but you'd lucked out with the two sinks it came with. Her brother did contract work and had fixed it up when you moved in, installing a floor length mirror on the back of the door, a bigger one over the sinks, and better lighting overhead and above the mirror as well. Stacy's whole family loved to spoil each other with gifts like this, and you more than happily reaped the benefits. Unfortunately, her brother hadn't been able to do anything about the small shower stall you'd been cursed with.

After waiting a minute or so for the water to warm up, you stepped in. Closing the glass shower door behind you, letting the pulsating water massage your shoulders, tense from hours of being hunched over your desk. As you though about your papers, your mind wandered to other work. How mad would Noble be that you were leaving early today? She'd never responded to your email, so you weren't sure what to expect when you went to the lab later. She couldn't get that mad, Parker was going to be your way into Stark's garage of toys.

You wondered what sort of toys he'd have built that nobody knew of. You wondered if you'd built anything similar, if you could use his ideas to further your own technology, and keep any more of it from exploding next time a masked stranger knocked one out of your hand—damn that Spider-Man, with his snarky comments. Who did he think he was, calling _you_ a kitty cat? Calling you _ma'am?_ And that dumbass suit, had he really designed it himself? _Gotta admire his tailoring skills, though,_ you thought as you moved under the water, making sure to clean each and every inch of yourself. _That shit was skin-tight._ You paused. Why were you thinking about an annoying masked stranger's costume and how tight it was? _I'm just admiring the skill._ You reassured yourself. _Any loose fabric would probably make him less aerodynamic, and every little bit counts in a fight._ You grinned to yourself. _He did have a cute ass though._

You finished showering and dried yourself off, applying your favorite moisturizer where needed.

“Y/N! Are you almost done in there? I have some outfits for you, and we still have to do your makeup! And hair!”

“I'll be out in a second!”

When you returned to your room, wearing nothing but a towel, Stacy was there to greet you. Modesty was no big deal between you two, you'd both walked in on each other naked before, and you'd quickly gotten used to her very relaxed sense of privacy.

She hopped up, clapping her hands together. “So! I checked the weather and picked out a few outfits for you. It's supposed to be pretty cold later tonight, so with the dresses I've chosen we've got your pick of tights or leggings, and some layers. I went with cute-casual, since we don't know how nice this place is that you're going. Which reminds me! Text the name of the restaurant and his number to me once you get there in case he's a serial killer or whatever, so I know what to tell the police.”

You laughed, but nodded. Stacy might have said it in a joking tone, but her dad worked as a detective on the force and despite her carefree personality, she always took precautions for herself and her friends.

“I'll go wait out there though, while you finish getting ready,” she said, already closing the door behind her. Once she was gone, you took a moment to look at the three outfits she'd laid out for you, eventually settling on the dress you knew would be most comfortable in addition to flattering. Once you were dressed, you went to the bathroom again to put on the finishing touches, and then came out to get what Stacy called 'her final seal of approval.'

“Okay Stacy, whaddaya think?”

She turned around to look at you over the back of the couch. “You're freaking cute, Y/N. You're gonna kill it tonight.” She gave a thumbs up. “Consider the 'Stacy Seal of Approval' earned.”

You grinned, and retrieved your bag—a different, cuter one than your normally had—and your coat. “Okay, I'm heading out! I'll text you once I meet up with him where we're actually going and all that.”

“Have fun! Love you! Get some tongue!”

“Oh, my god. Bye.” You heard her laugh as you shut the door behind you.

You walked into Noble's lab about half an hour earlier than usual. She was arguing with someone, a strange man you'd never seen before. They didn't seem to notice you as you closed the door behind you, it's automatic lock giving a soft click. You listened in to their conversation as you traded your coat and purse for proper lab gear.

“I don't like it.”

“You don't have to like it, I'm just asking to borrow-”

“My assistant is one of the best I've been able to find, I won't have you taking up her valuable time so you can turn her into another soldier-”

You froze, they were talking about you.

“Spider-Man is causing a great deal of trouble, Noble. Osborn is dead, the Goblin-”

You'd read about Norman Osborn's tragic death in the paper's, you didn't realize Spider-Man was responsible. Did that mean Osborn was the Green Goblin-?

“And he had far more experience than Y/L/N. With a little more schooling, some experience, her tech could become invaluable-” You couldn't help but glow at the praise.

“He was off his rocker. The fact of the matter is, people with abilities that aren't already out their wasting their time fighting petty criminals or aren't bat-shit crazy are hard to come by these days, and you have one right here in your lab tinkering away with toys! Noble, our group could really use her.”

You decided to speak up. “Use me for what?”

Noble whipped her head to look at you, cold rage in her eyes. You were thankful it wasn't directed at you. The man speaking to her turned around, cold blue eyes glittering like a hungry dragon that had found a shiny new piece of treasure.

“Speak of the devil, you must be Miss Y/L/N.” He strode towards you, and held out his hand to shake yours, standing at a respectful distance. You looked towards your professor. She stood next to The Heart, seething, jaw clenched tight. You looked back to the man, taking note of his ridiculously perfect suit. It had to be a few thousand dollars, at least.

You shook his hand. “Yes. And what do I call you?” You gave a polite smile.

“Just call me Mr. Adams.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Adams. I hope you don't mind me asking again, but what exactly could you use me for?”

“Tell me, Miss Y/L/N, have you heard of an organization called A.I.M.?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Adams is an original character, and yup! A.I.M. is going to be heavily tied with the central plot of this story. But since this is technically MCU and they've been putting their own twists on things, I'm just taking basic knowledge of A.I.M. and kind of doing my own thing with it. Any tips or fun facts from comic fans, however, is appreciated!


	3. A Job Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of doing my own thing with A.I.M., if you're a comic book fan please bear with me.

“Tell me, Miss Y/l/n, have you heard of an organization called A.I.M.?”

You wanted to fire off a quip about AOL Instant Messaging, but instead just smiled and shook your head. “I can't say that I have, no.”

Mr. Adams smiled. In addition to his perfectly tailored expensive soft gray suit, he had perfectly straight white teeth. You noted they looked even more dazzling contrasted against the mustard yellow of his pocket handkerchief and tie.

He was unsettling, like an evil Chris Traeger, and you couldn't put your finger on exactly why he seemed like an evil Chris Traeger.

“A.I.M., Miss Y/l/n, is an organization dedicated to technology and sciences.”

He was standing between you and Professor Noble now, nearly blocking her from your sight. You could see your teacher clenching and unclenching her jaw from here. You looked back at Mr. Adams, wondering what was setting Noble so on edge.

“Go on.”

“A.I.M.--a.k.a Advanced Idea Mechanics—is, like I said, dedicated to technology. Both advancing and implementing it for the gain of not only ourselves, but the world,” he punctuated the word world with a casual sweeping hand gesture. “We are always looking for talented minds to join our ranks, and skilled fighters to protect our interests. Keep nosy people away from our business.” He looked you in the eye, flashing his sly grin again. He knew he had you hooked. “From what I hear, you qualify as both.”

You kept your face politely stoic, but you were curious. It was your default state, curious. You wanted to know more about the organization Noble worked for but never talked about, and why he'd told Noble earlier that Spider-Man was a problem. Most organizations didn't attract attention from superheroes unless they were in the business of committing crimes and causing trouble.

“I know you've been working with our dear Doctor Noble here for quite a while, but we'd like to offer you an _official_  job at A.I.M. doing some slightly different work.” Mr. Adams spoke so casually, so friendly, that despite the unsettling feeling you had in the back of your mind, you were beginning to trust him.

“What sort of work? I'm a scientist and an engineer first and foremost, Mr. Adams,” you said as you crossed your arms, leaning your hip against your workbench.

“Obviously you would still continue the work you do here now in Noble's lab, but as an official A.I.M. scientist,” he raised a single finger, seeing your excitement start to creep up your face at receiving a job offer before you even finished school. “We would also like you to put your special abilities to use.” He watched your face closely.

You furrowed your brow.

“Obviously, I don't expect you to make a decision right away. But it does come with full benefits, you know, healthcare, etc. And, funding for almost any project you could conceive of when we aren't commissioning special projects from our scientists. We may not be a well known organization, but we are very, very well funded. Of course, if you agreed to, ah, put your abilities to use for us, we would provide any training you needed, and of course, a specially designed suit--”

“A disguise. You want me to break laws.”

“Miss Y/l/n, by simply working for Noble and speaking to me you're already breaking several. And something tells me you don't have many qualms about breaking or bending the rules, either.” Mr. Adams raised a dark brow.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Commit any jewel heists lately?”

You swallowed.

He grinned, again. “Of course, we might not appreciate you committing more petty crimes like that if you work for us, any break-ins or fights you get into will be for the purpose of advancing A.I.M.” His phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check it. “Well, I must be off,” he smiled, pocketing his phone and pulling a business card out. “Do some research on us, think it over, and give me a call if you decide either way.” He slipped the business card into your hand.

You looked it over. It was white with only a telephone number printed in black in the center of one side, and the back had the A.I.M. logo. You looked at Mr. Adams, and gave a small nod.

Grinning, he turned towards Noble and gave her a cheerful wave. “Lovely seeing you as always, Noble! Don't work to hard, now.” He turned and winked at you on his way to the door. “Look forward to your call, Miss Y/l/n.” And then he was gone, door clicking softly behind him.

“Fucking bastard,” seethed Noble from her workstation, slamming her hand on the table. “Always so damn cocky in his goddamn suits.”

You turned to look at her. “Is he really that bad?”

“Don't get me wrong, Y/l/n, he's excellent at his job. He's just an asshole.”

Noble's back was to you as you turned over the business card.

“Professor, is it dangerous working for A.I.M.? He made it sound pretty good-”

“Oh, being one of their scientists is highly rewarding, don't get me wrong there. A.I.M.'s purpose is worthwhile. It's the grunt work that becomes dangerous, especially if you end up going toe-to-toe with their enemies.”

“Enemies?”

“Let's just say it's only a matter of time before the Avengers find out about what A.I.M. really does, and they've caught the attention of at least one other masked vigilante.” Noble returned to fitting together more pieces for The Heart.

You swallowed. “What does A.I.M. really do? I thought Mr. Adams said it was all science-”

“Oh, it mostly is. But it's what we do with the science. A.I.M. supplies weapons for the government on occasion, and foreign ones as well. Computers, security systems, experimental tech—you name it, A.I.M. is involved as long as there's science and technology involved.” She made eye contact with you, and held it from across the room. “A.I.M. began as a branch of HYDRA.”

“Hydra?! As in the fu—ahem, as in the Hydra that destroyed SHIELD?”

“Yes. Bunch of idiots if you ask me. A.I.M. is different. We don't seek to eliminate or really even control like Hydra does, but we want to free and guide and _lead_ the future. Unfortunately, to get there, we might have to destroy some things. Hydra taking down SHIELD sent us ahead by years, removing one of our biggest roadblocks.” Turning away, she resumed her work. “Though I don't like the idea of you fighting superheroes all the time for them—for _us_ , I think you should consider becoming an official employee, since you're technically already helping us anyway.”

For the next hour while working, you mulled everything over. A.I.M. seemed like some serious shit, and you definitely wanted a job in your field. You already knew Noble did some not so good things, but you didn't know the specifics. And you yourself had some questionable morals—I mean you spent your free time designing weapons and committing jewel heists for fucks sake.

The hour passed quickly. You had half an hour to go meet Peter at the school for your date.

“Professor, I'm heading out early,” you called out, peeling off your gloves and placing them on their shelf alongside your goggles and lab coat.

“I'll see you next week, Y/l/n.”

You donned your coat and shouldered your purse. “Goodnight, Professor!” You gave her a wave and a smile, and left.

You arrived at campus with seconds to spare, and immediately rushed to the meeting spot you'd chosen with Peter, fixing your appearance in the screen of your phone. He wasn't there yet, and you let out a sigh of relief and sat on a bench to catch your breath.

After five nervous minutes of waiting, you got a text. It was Peter. He was running late, he was so sorry, but he'd be there to pick you up very soon. You rolled your eyes and smiled. Always the late kid, apparently.

You opened up Instagram to kill some time. After just seconds of scrolling through pictures of makeup, drinks, and cityscapes, a post from Stacy caught you by surprise. It was a video of Spider-Man, standing on top of a crashed taxi cab on it's side across the road, pulling a man out of the driver's seat as an armored van careened away down the road in the background. He took a second to make sure the man wasn't seriously injured, and then went swinging off after the barreling hunk of metal. The camera turned to show Stacy's face in a shocked grin, proclaiming “I just saw Spider-Man save like six people!” You double tapped the video with your thumb, and frowned as the little red heart popped up. Fucking Spider-Man.

Peter showed up fifteen minutes later, looking like he'd rushed as fast as he could to meet you.

“Shit, I'm sorry—there was a car chase, I rushed as fast as I could to meet you-”

You grinned. “I saw on Instagram, my friend Stacy posted a video of Spider-Man pulling a guy out of a crashed taxi cab.” You put your phone in your purse as you stood from your seat on the bench.

“Oh damn, yeah, must've been the same thing I got tied up in,” he scratched the back of his head and smiled. “How was your meeting with Professor Noble?”

“It was good! One of her colleagues offered me a job,” you fell into step with him.

“What! That's amazing!”

“Right? I'm going to do some more research about the organization though, before I make up my mind.”

“Oh, that reminds me, my friend talked to Tony Stark, he said he'd love to meet you,” Peter glanced at you as he hailed a cab.

“What?! Oh my god, are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. He said, quote, 'sounds like a regular Einstein, bring her by anytime.'”

You beamed at him. “You must've made me sound really smart.”

Peter smiled back at you. “I only told my friend the truth.”

The ride to the Thai place was short. It was a little hole in the wall restaurant with dark furniture, authentic art, and a loud and busy kitchen. You were both given a table against the wall, and as you slid into the bench, a waiter placed two menus in front of you and wandered off.

“So what do you usually get here?” You asked, opening up your menu.

Peter started rattling off his recommendations, and the waiter returned a moment later with two glasses of water. “Would you two like anything else to drink?”

You and Peter both picked your drinks, and the waiter left, returning just moments later before disappearing again, returning later to take your orders—an order of veggie spring rolls and a large order of curry to share.

Conversation quickly turned to current events, and then the food came. As you filled up your plates with rice and curry, you remarked “Did you hear about Norman Osborn last month?”

Peter instantly sobered. “Yeah, I did. I grew up with his kid, Harry.”

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize-”

He looked at you and smiled, returning the serving spoon to the bowl of curry in the middle of the table. “It's okay, Y/n.”

You had no idea. Sympathetic to his sad and serious expression, you instinctively reached over the table and placed your hand on his. “I'm sorry. You must have known him for a long time if you grew up with Harry.”

Peter blinked, glanced at your hands, and smiled, turning his palm up to squeeze yours. “Yeah, I did. I'm okay though, it's just Harry mostly that's got me worried.”

You kept your hand in his, cheeks turning pink, heart beating just a little bit faster. “It probably hurt him pretty bad.” Peter nodded. “How did it happen? The news all said it was a tragic accident.”

Peter looked at you seriously. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

You nodded, smiling reassuringly. “I'm excellent at keeping secrets. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“I just... I haven't talked with a lot of people outside of my Aunt May about it, and I have this feeling that you're someone I can trust,” he was speaking softly, leaning slightly towards you over the table and holding eye contact.

You beamed at the compliment. “Alright, go ahead then.”

“Harry said Spider-Man was responsible.”

You froze. “What? I got the impression he wasn't the killing type.”

Peter shook his head. “I don't believe he is, either. But Harry saw him there, right after the accident, and now he's obsessed with revenge. That's why I'm so worried about him.”

“Why would Spider-Man kill Norman Osborn?”

Peter lowered his voice. “I think Norman was the Green Goblin. The Goblin was using a bunch of Oscorp tech, and... There's other connections, too.”

Your mind was reeling. So Norman Osborn was the Green Goblin. That's what you thought you'd heard when you'd walked in on Mr. Adams and Professor Noble arguing at the lab. And Harry Osborn wanted revenge. Maybe you could use Peter to get to Harry, team up so you could help A.I.M. take down Spider-Man if you took the job.

“Wow. That's... That's intense, Peter.”

He nodded and laughed nervously. “I'm not really sure why I just told you all of that, honestly.”

You smiled. “Don't worry. You can trust me, Peter,” you said earnestly, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Now let's eat before this gets cold. It looks amazing.”

He smiled gratefully at you, and conversation turned to more lighthearted matters. With all of the talking, it took you both quite a while to finish your food and pay. You weren't far from you neighborhood, surprisingly, so Peter walked you home, slipping your hand into his halfway there.

You stopped in front of your building and turned to face him. “This is me,” you nodded your head towards the building. “I had a really amazing time, Peter, and the food was delicious. We'll have to go there again sometime.” Your hand was still in his, and the other held a dangling plastic bag filled with the leftovers.

He grinned. “Again?”

“I mean, as long as you wanna go out some more, then yeah. That food is definitely worth a repeat.”

“I'll probably have to show you some other places before I can take you back there, huh?”

“Probably. Don't wanna fall into a routine too quick, do we?”

“Nah, probably not.”

You were both inching closer to each other, exchanging nervous and excited glances.

“I get to pick the next place, though” you whispered, standing so close that if either of you took a deep enough breath your chests would touch.

“Good, because now I have to find somewhere even better than the Thai place if I wanna keep impressing you,” he was smiling just a little bit, glancing back and forth between your eyes.

“Sounds good to me,” you were both whispering at this point. You glanced at his lips, and blinked as you looked back up, and then his hand was gently touching the side of your jaw and your neck and his lips were brushing against yours, his other hand still warm in your grasp, and he tasted like fortune cookies and mint. It was soft and gentle and perfect, just like Peter. You couldn't help but smile at him as he pulled away, hand still on the side of your face. His thumb brushing your jawline lightly. You grinned at each other.

“That was-”

“Wow,” you agreed, dropping his hand so you could wrap yours around the back of his neck and pull him in for another one without dropping the leftovers. His hand went to your waist after a moments hesitation. Your second lasted longer than the first, and by the time you both pulled away, you were both breathing a little heavier than usual. You grinned. “I should probably head inside.” Your hand slipped from the back of his neck to his shoulder, and slightly down his chest until it was over his heart. If he hadn't been wearing a jacket, there was no doubt you would have felt it beating just as hard as yours.

He nodded, grinning as wide as you were, as he took his hand off your waist reluctantly and stepped back after one last brush of his thumb across your jaw. Your cheek felt much colder now with the breeze where his hand had been.

“I'll uh, I'll text you? Call you?” He put both of his hands into his pockets.

You nodded. “Yeah. Anytime.”

You both stood there, smiling like idiots for a moment, and you started the walk up the stairs to the front door of your building, turning around after you unlocked your door, resting the takeout on the ground so you could look through your keys easier.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, hands in his pockets and looking up at you with the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen. You paused, pulling the door closed but leaving it unlocked, and rushed down the stairs. He raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth slightly, “Wh-”

You grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him down for another kiss, and even though you were standing on the last stair he was still taller than you. If you were in a movie, there would have been the biggest music crescendo right then, you thought later on. Peter's brow was furrowed, his hands were caught in his pockets and he was trying to get them out to pull you closer, but you pulled away first. You were still holding his face, and he looked at you dazed like a deer in headlights, totally speechless.  
“Goodnight Peter,” you whispered, voice low, eyes twinkling, before running back up your stairs and disappearing in through the front door with just one glance back at him before you shut the it. He was grinning dumbly, clearly still dazed from your last kiss.

You were practically floating on air, and your face hurt from how big you were grinning when you walked in through the front door of your home. Stacy was still out, judging from the dark and silent apartment.

You were still jittery with adrenaline from the last kiss, you couldn't even thing about going to sleep, so instead you pulled out your laptop and began your research on A.I.M.

You already knew you were going to accept the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. I'm bad at romance. Please help me.
> 
> Anyway, I literally just finished chapter five, you can expect a cameo from another hero coming up in that one. And it's not Tony Stark yet. Anybody wanna guess who?
> 
> (I'm completely winging this fic. I have only a vague idea of where this is going. Help me.)


	4. What Is This, The Incredibles?

It was noon the next day, and you hadn't seen Stacy since before you left the day before when she helped you dress for your date. She'd gone out late with one of her friends, and left early that morning for school.

You were seated at your dining table, holding the business card Mr. Adams had given you and staring at the logo on the back. You swallowed and lifted your phone to your ear, hitting the dial button.

It rang three times, and there was a click.

“Mr. Adams office, how may I help you?”

You weren't expecting a secretary. “Oh, um-” you cleared your throat, putting down the business card and idly picking at the peeling white paint of your dining table—Stacy had insisted on a boho vintage piece that was in sore need of a new paint job. “I'm calling about a job offer?” It somehow came out as a question.

“One moment, please.” You waited on hold for less than ten seconds.

“Miss Y/l/n! What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?” It was Mr. Adams. You could almost hear his sparkling hungry grin through the phone.

“I'm calling to accept the job offer,” you swallowed nervously again. You hated talking on the phone.

“Fantastic! How soon can you come in to hash out the details?”

“Uh, well, I'm free today and next Monday.”

“Well, I don't see why we should wait the whole weekend to bring you into our little family, so why not today? I can send a car to pick you up and bring you to our offices. What time suits you?”

“Two o'clock.”

“I'll have a car ready and waiting at two for you outside your building. I look forward to doing business with you, Miss Y/l/n.”

“Thank you, Mr. Adams. Is there anything specific I should bring?”

“Just your lovely self, Miss Y/l/n. We'll probably want to see your special gift, so perhaps dress comfortably. Oh, and your current suit. Noble told me you designed one yourself.”

“I did. I'll bring it.”

“Excellent. We'll see you here soon.”

He hung up before you realized you hadn't given him your address.

Two hours later, you were dressed in comfortable stretch skinny jeans, sneakers, a tank top, and your favorite coat. In your bag you carried the usual necessities, keys, chap-stick, wallet, a book, a hat and a scarf just in case it got windy, and your black and indigo catsuit.

As you were making sure you had everything you needed, your phone rang. You answered, guessing the unknown number was your ride.

“Miss Y/l/n, your ride is here.”

You'd guessed right. “I'll be right down.”

They hung up, and you went outside after locking up your apartment to find a black town car parked directly ahead of the front door, a tall and thickly muscled bald white man in a black suit waiting next to it.

You walked towards the car, uncertain.

“Miss Y/l/n.” The bald man said, giving you a casual nod, and opening the car door for you.

You looked at him for a moment. Was he the driver or was he muscle intended to guard you?

“Thanks,” you said, and entered the back of the car. In the driver's seat was another man, wearing a slightly more casual suit. He didn't acknowledge you.

The bald man got into the back seat, shutting the door behind him, leaving room between the two of you. He didn't buckle. The driver glanced at the two of you in the rear view mirror and began to drive.

You arrived at a tall, nondescript warehouse in an area of the city you didn't know. Baldy got out of the car, and opened your door. “We're here.”

“What is this, Zoolander?” You looked up at the warehouse, shouldering your bag.

Baldy closed the car door, ignoring your joke. “This way, please.” He walked to a small side-door that was up a small stairwell, you following close behind, holding the strap of your bag nervously. He opened the door into a small reception area that looked like it should be in a Wall Street office building instead of the side entrance to a dilapidated warehouse. It was clean and chic, with even a soothing water fixture near what looked like two sets of elevator doors. There was a second large gray door behind the secretary's desk to the left. The secretary was so nondescript you forgot what she looked like while you were looking at her.

“I have Mr. Adams's afternoon appointment.”

“Please proceed through the left hand elevator doors,” she replied, almost robotically, pressing a button on her computer.

The doors slid open with a soft whoosh and a ding, and you followed baldy inside. The silence was deafening as the doors slid shut, blocking out the sound of the water fixture in the lobby. The elevator started moving down, and after a few minutes, stopped. You weren't sure how far underground you were, but you knew it was far enough.

Mr. Adams was waiting for you when the doors slid open, wearing another expensive suit, this time dark blue with a mustard yellow shirt. “Miss Y/l/n! I trust you had a safe ride over?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it was fine. What is this place?”

“These are the secret A.I.M. offices. We have a building downtown that deals with public relations, above the board business and so on. This building, however, is where we do our most important work in the city. This floor is dedicated to the study and training of gifted individuals, such as yourself. Today we'd like, if you don't mind, to observe some of your abilities, since we already know how excellent of a scientist you are. After we do that, we can decide exactly what sort of work we'd like for you to do, and outfit you with an appropriate suit to keep you safe in any tousles you might get into. How does that sound?”

While he spoke, he walked with you down a long white hallway with his hand on the back of your shoulder, passing a number of closed silver doors. Baldy trailed along behind, silent as always.

“It sounds like a plan, yeah.”

You stopped in front of a pair of double swinging doors, silver just like the rest.

“Here we are!” Mr. Adams proclaimed cheerfully, pushing the doors open and entering the room with you. Baldy didn't follow.

The room was as white as the hallway. You looked around and saw a hefty amount of gym equipment, weights, treadmill, punching bags, etc., as well as computers practically oozing wires. A few scientists in white lab coats, three middle aged men and one slightly younger woman in her thirties, turned around from various stations around the room.  
“I've brought you today's guest! I hope you're all ready for her!” Mr. Adams turned towards you. “I'm afraid I have to leave you here, now. I've got quite a bit of business to take care of, but I'll be back at the end of the day to consult with you about what work you'll do for us.”

You just nodded, nervous at the prospect of having to show your abilities in front of a bunch of strangers, especially when those strangers were detached scientists.

Mr. Adams left, and one of the men came over to you. He had a tan, sparkly gray eyes, and sandy colored hair.

“Hello Miss Y/l/n, I'm Doctor Schmidt. It's a pleasure to meet you,” he reached out to shake your hand, a friendly smile on his face. “Please come this way, we'd like to draw a blood sample before we begin observing.”

Doctor Schmidt was surprisingly warm and friendly, like he was a family friend you'd known forever, and you relaxed, not realizing just how anxious you'd been. “What're ya gonna do with the blood, make evil clones or something?”

He laughed. “Dear lord, no. We want to compare your blood before and after exertion and using your abilities, see what differences we find and how it affects your biology.”  
You nodded. “Sounds fair.”

“Jenkins here will be doing the biological samples.”

Jenkins was a thin gray-haired man with dry skin and a stoic-bordering-on-grumpy face. He took your blood and swabbed the inside of your cheek for DNA samples with hardly a word other than instructing you to open your mouth and grumbling that the needle may hurt a pinch. You didn't like him very much.

Schmidt brought you over to the other two scientists, a dark skinned woman with short cropped hair and a relaxed smile, and a tall chubby bearded pale man with a deep and playfully sarcastic voice. The two men called the woman simply “Eto,” and Eto and Doctor Schmidt called the sarcastic man “Jimmy.” You liked all three of them instantly.

Eto hooked some electrodes up to your head and chest underneath your tank-top. “Normally I'd buy a girl a drink before reaching down her shirt like this,” she joked with you. You laughed.

They started you off with simple exercises, running on the treadmill as long as you could or as fast as you could, lifting weights, punching bag, some agility stunts. And then they ran you through them again, and told you to use your powers. Your glowing feet cracked the treadmill after just a few minutes.

“Holy shit dude, you broke the treadmill!” Jimmy yelled out.

“Oh my god, I'm sorry-”

“That was amazing! Do you know how fast you were going?”

“Um, no?”

“Really damn fast. Like, not quite supersoldier fast, but _fast_.”

Moving on to the weights, you impressed them yet again.

“This is amazing, your strength almost doubles when you use your abilities, I bet if you strained just a little more it would even triple!” Eto's eyes were lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I think we should have her fight one of the bots.”

“Schmidt, are you sure about that?”

“She's fought Spider-Man and won. We can set it on easy to start.”

You were nervous. “I'm gonna fight a robot?”

“It's kind of like a crash-test dummy, but way more high tech. And bigger. My own creation,” Jimmy bragged.

They went with you to a side room, the floor was covered in mats, and one wall lined with mirrors. Jimmy wheeled in a robot, shiny chrome and clear plastic showing wiring. It's head was covered in some sort of padding, as was it's chest, stomach, back, legs, and outer arms.

“What's the padding?” you asked.

“Sensors to see how hard you actually hit it, all that jazz.” He stepped away, joining his colleagues by the door, pulling out a small remote—presumably for the robot—and pressed a button.

The robot came to life. You immediately went into a fighting position, fists glowing and ready to kick some ass.

“Me first, or is the robot going to make the first-?”

The robot lunged for you, and you ducked, twirling out of the way. The next five minutes were a blur, you dodging, punching, jumping, twirling, kicking—and then the robot's head flew off and cracked the mirror along the far wall, sparks flying everywhere.

A chorus of “oh my gods” and “holy shits” came from the three scientists by the door.

You jumped out of the way of the falling robot body, panting and catching your breath. “Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-”

“That was awesome!” Jimmy interrupted.

“Was that really the easy setting? Because damn, dude.” You were still panting.

“I dialed it up to mildly challenging towards the end there.”

“Well fuck, I guess working out pays off,” you laughed.

“Somebody please tell me we got that on camera,” Schmidt said, awed.

“I turned the cameras on when Jimmy brought in the robot,” Eto said, equally awed, though far more composed. “I'm glad I did.”

You looked around the room, noticing for the first time the cameras in each corner of the room.

“Can I get some water?”

You were all three back in the lab now, your team of scientists working away while you sat to the side, hooked up to another machine, Eto taking notes.

“Dude, I just came up with your code name,” Jimmy piped up.

“Code name?”

“Yeah, you know. Steve Rogers is called Captain America, Tony Stark is Iron Man. You need one too.”

“Let's hear it,” Schmidt looked up from his monitor.

Jimmy paused, cocky grin spreading over his face. “Black Light.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What, 'cause I can glow?”

“Pretty much.”

“I kinda like it.”

“Of course you do, I'm a damn genius.”

You laughed. “Okay, so I have a secret identity and a code name, what about the outfit?”

Eto's eyes sparkled. “That's down the hall.”

You followed Eto down the shiny white hallway, bouncing with excitement. A real code name and new suit all on the first day at your new job? It was almost too good to be true!

“Here we are,” Eto flashed a dazzling white smile that almost glowed, opening yet another silver door into yet another shiny white room.

“Woah, what is this, _The Incredibles_?” you gazed around at reams of fabric, mannequins, and shelves of things you didn't even know what to call.

Eto laughed. “No. But it is my husband's department.”

At the sound of her laugh a handsome Asian man with perfectly groomed hair and even more perfect teeth appeared from behind a shelf. He looked like a movie star.

“Y/n, meet Mr. Eto.”

Mr. Eto came up, kissing his wife on the cheek. “Angie, what a lovely surprise! Is this our new warrior?” He looked you up and down. “She sent me a clip of that footage from the practice room of you decapitating Jimmy's robot. Nice work.”

You raised your eyebrows. “That was only like thirty-five minutes ago.”

“Yes well, after watching it I had some ideas. Come take a look,” he paused. “I hear you have a suit you made yourself, mind if I see it?”

You reached into your bag, glad you'd decided not to leave it in the lab, and pulled out your suit.

“Not bad,” he said, taking it out of your hands and feeling the material, stretching it and running a deliberate finger along the seams. “But I can do better. You need stronger fabric, something more breathable. Might as well make it flame proof, while we're at it...” He picked his tablet off his desk, and began sketching with a stylus. “Oh, no, that's no good. Uh- yeah, that's much better. Here,” he put the tablet in your hands, having already whipped out a new design based on the suit you'd made yourself.

The main body of the suit was black. Black gloves on the hands, and black boots with purple running up the side of the legs, the stripe ending at your waist. The chest of the suit was the same purple, in a sharp rectangular hourglass shape, like the marking of a black widow spider, or a stylized old-timey lantern. The sleeves were black as well, with another purple stripe running down the outside of the arms, ending at the edge of the tight black gloves which were bordered in the same purple. The forearms looked like he had drawn metal braces running in silver circles up past your wrist.

“What do you think? Look kick-ass enough for you? I'm thinking on the actual costume we can make the purple the same shade as that light you emit when you're using your powers.”

“It's amazing,” you breathed. “I love it.”

“Good, because that's what you're getting,” both of the Etos laughed. “I just can't decide on a mask style, honestly. Full face covered? Just the eyes? Probably should cover your hair, don't want anyone pulling on it in a fight or you leaving any for someone to figure out who you are.”

“I kinda like full face. Or as much as you can hide, without covering my mouth? I don't want anyone to recognize me.”

Mr. Eto nodded. “I'll come up with something, we can tweak it when you come in for a fitting.”

A knock and then baldy from the car ride over entered the room. “Mr. Adams would like to see you, Miss Y/l/n.”

“Mind if I hold onto your old costume for measurements, Y/n?”

“Go right ahead.”

“I'll probably have your new one ready by Sunday, will you be able to come in that evening?”

You nodded, and shook Mr. Eto's hand. Doctor Eto smiled at you.

“It was a pleasure working with you today, Y/n,” she said, shaking your hand as well.

You waved goodbye and followed baldy back to the elevators. The elevator ride was quiet and awkward, and you were thankful when the doors opened to a new floor, this one resembling a standard high profile business office.

“Mr. Adams's office is this way.”

You followed baldy down the hall, and ended up in front of a large glass office, where a pretty blonde was seated at a desk just outside the door.

“Miss Y/l/n for Mr. Adams,” baldy said simply in response to her questioning look.

The blonde lifted her phone to her ear and pressed a button. “Mr. Adams, a Miss Y/l/n is here to see you.” A pause and then she hung up. “Go right in Miss Y/l/n, he's waiting.”

You entered his office alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT I kind of figured out what I'm doing here. I'm pretty excited about the next two chapters, I think I'm finally remembering how to actually write shit, lmao. The plot is going to hopefully start accelerating more and we'll be getting to the good stuff.
> 
> Tell me what you guys think so far!


	5. Super Suit

Mr. Adams office was exactly as one would expect it to be. Soft gray walls, sleek shiny black furniture, one or two plants, and a large piece of abstract art hanging above a black leather couch against the wall.

“Miss Y/l/n, come in! Have a seat!” Mr. Adams gestured at the two seats opposite his own at his desk.

“Hello,” you gave a polite smile and closed the office door behind you, crossing the room to take a seat.

“How did it go today? I trust my scientists were gentle with you.”

“They were great, actually. I liked them a lot.”

“Wonderful! Wonderful,” his the smile in his eyes was different from the one on his lips. He glanced from his computer screen to you, hands clasped in front of his mouth. “I saw the video of you in the training room. Very impressive, I have to say.”

You weren't exactly sure what to say. You shrugged, “The robot looked at me funny,” you joked nervously.

“Have you ever seen footage of yourself fighting, Miss Y/l/n?”

“Um... Not really, no. I don't fight as much as I did when I was younger.”

He swung the monitor towards you. “Take a look,” he said, pressing the space button on his keyboard. A video began to play.

It was you, in the practice room, wearing your tank top and stretchy skinny jeans. You were ducking under the robot's fist, your fists, forearms, and lower legs glowing an indigo-violet. The robot missed, and you jumped up, using your powers in your legs to push you a good six feet into the air, and you spun around, leg out, foot colliding with the robot's head. There was a burst of sparks that temporarily blinded the camera, and then the chunk of metal that was the robot's head was flying towards the mirror, smashing an entire panel on impact. You landed in a crouch, quickly rolling out of the way of the robot's falling body. You looked towards the mirrors, your face spreading into a surprised “oh,” as you turned around to apologize to Jimmy for destroying his robot.

Mr. Adams stopped the video.

“It seems we won't have to train you as much as we'd thought. A little practice here and there, of course, wouldn't hurt, but I am very, very impressed,” he was watching you like a hawk, eyes sparkling. “As soon as your suit is ready we'd like you to start working on taking down Spider-Man. He's been causing some trouble for the company, and we just can't have it.”

“Sure, yeah,” you replied simply. You were unsettled from the clip of the video you'd just watched. You'd never seen yourself like that before. You knew you could kick some ass, but you didn't realize you looked like that when you did.

It took about half an hour to hash out the details of your employment with A.I.M. You'd continue your work with Professor Noble at her lab, but in addition you would now have your 'special abilities' as Mr. Adams called it at the beck and call of A.I.M., doing errands such as breaking and entering, sabotage (though that's not what Mr. Adams called it), and fighting Spider-Man and any other hero that tried to interfere with with A.I.M.'s business. And you'd be making a good chunk of money while doing it. _Wonder if I'll run into Daredevil_ , you mused as you shook Mr. Adams hand before leaving.

The same big bald white dude was waiting outside of the office to escort you out of the warehouse and back to your home. The car ride was as quiet as it had been before, but felt about twice as long. When you got home, you ate a box of mac'n'cheese and fell asleep watching TV on the couch.

Your weekend was pretty average after that. You hung out with Stacy, did homework, texted Peter a bit. Saturday night you even went out with her and got drunk. You drank, you danced, you sang, and apparently, you broke a guy's arm.

“I _what_?” you almost shouted the next morning, sitting on the couch as Stacy poured herself a second cup of coffee in the kitchen behind you.

“He grabbed your ass and you broke his arm, dude,” she laughed. You heard the clink of a spoon against the side of a mug, and a second clink as she put the spoon on the counter. “We got kicked out after that, it was kind of amazing.”

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, throwing your head back and covering your eyes with your arm. “I mean, he had it coming but oh my god, I broke a man's arm at a club.”

“I honestly didn't realize you were so strong, Y/n,” she sat on the couch next to you. “You should become a superhero, run around breaking the arms of thieves and perverts.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah, what would they call me?”

“The Misandrist,” she joked, making air quotes with her free hand.

You laughed. “I can see the headlines now. 'Female Superhero Targets Only Men,' 'Female Superhero Finds Crime Ring in New York City, But Can She Find Love?'”

Stacy laughed. “Fucking amazing. You have any plans today?”

“Nah, I just have one thing but that's not until six.” Mr. Eto had called you the day before and arranged for you to pick up your new suit. You were more than eager to try it on and take it for a spin around the city. “You have plans?”

“Dave wants me to meet his sister, so I'm having coffee with him today.”

“Are you meeting her at coffee?” You raised your eyebrow. She usually didn't like to meet a guy's family.

“I think so, yeah. Dave's pretty cool, so I figured I might as well stick with this one for a while.” She looked at you, waiting for you to make some comment about this being out of character for her. When none came, she relaxed a bit.

“Is he close with his sister?”

“Closer than some, but they're not like, best friends or anything.”

“That's really cool though, that he wants you two to meet,” you smiled at her.

“Yeah,” she laughed nervously, finishing her coffee.

“If you're going to get coffee with them though, maybe you should slow down for now, eh champ?” You teased as she went to get a third cup.

“Ugh, you're right,” she sighed and deposited her mug into the sink. “I'm gonna start getting ready since it's going to take me about a million years. Don't go anywhere, I want you to make sure I look sister-appropriate.”

“I'll be right here,” you grinned cheekily at her as she left into her room.

 _Buzz buzz_. Your phone moved slightly across the coffee table. You snatched it up to find a text from an unknown number.

_After you pick up your suit, we have an assignment for you._

* * *

 

Several hours later, and you were back at the super duper secret A.I.M. building they'd brought you to last Thursday.

“Miss Y/l/n! Right on time, I can't wait for you to try on your new suit!” Mr. Eto jumped up from his seat as the silver door slid shut behind you, eyes sparkling with excitement. He rushed over and shook your hand, pocketing a stylus.

“Mr. Eto, you almost look more excited than I am,” you laughed.

“Oh, you'll see in a minute. There's a changing room this way, I want to see you in it, make sure it fits and everything,” he let go of the hand he was shaking, and waved to one of the side doors in the large room. “It's pretty easy to get on. I'll be out here.”

You went into the dressing room. Along one wall were mirrors. Opposite was a bench where you could put your clothes after you changed, and hanging next to the bench—your suit. The black material was shiny in a subtle way, like silk, and the indigo-violet that ran up the arms and legs and made up most of the torso was more matte. You stepped forward and touched the fabric—it was smooth and flexible, running across your fingertips like water. Something that looked like a hood was attached to the neck.

“Wow,” you breathed.

Quickly you changed, shimmying into the one-piece bodysuit with ease. It fit like a glove, and you couldn't help but admire yourself in the mirror. You tried on the hood—it was loose, like a hoodie, and not snug like you expected in to be. Noticing that he hadn't provided the shoes, gloves, or mask that went with the suit, you stepped out of the room, looking like a surfer in a wetsuit.

“Mr. Eto, I didn't see the gloves or the shoes or the mask-”

“I came up with a few of each of those and wanted you to pick the most comfortable,” he said, gesturing to a table laden with boots, gloves, and masks, looking your suit up and down. “It fits?”

You looked down at yourself. “Yeah, fits like a glove,” you looked at him. “If I knew any of your other handiwork, I'd say you've outdone yourself, but since I have no baseline...” You shrugged.

He chuckled. “I did outdo myself with this one. Got carried away a bit, wanted to try my new textiles.”

“Yeah, what is this stuff anyway?"

“Haven't named it yet. But the whole design is fireproof and hydrophobic, and those purple sections? They're designed to withstand knifes, darts, shrapnel, even long distance bullets theoretically. The lantern shape is supposed to cover most of your most vulnerable organs. If they're close enough for you to grab the gun, though, grab the gun before they can shoot. The black fabric isn't quite as strong, but it should protect from most blades unless they're very, very sharp, or the person you're fighting is very, very strong.”

You were looking over the table of gloves, boots, and masks now. “That's... I'm impressed.”

“I know. It's very impressive. All of that, and it's only the thickness of insulated leggings. I'm a genius,” he grinned at you. “The boots are all mostly the same in design, I'm afraid, it's mostly just different soles and grips, pick whichever one is most comfortable and then we'll move on to the gloves.”

You spent a while picking out boots, eventually landing on a pair that made you a good two inches taller due to the thick rubber soles and shiny steel tips that covered the toes.

“And now, onto the gloves.” Mr. Eto rubbed his hands together with excitement. “Jimmy made some neat accessories for these that he thought you'd appreciate. This pair has some stun darts in the fingers, this one has an electro-shock mode—nothing lethal, of course—and these-”

“Don't they have black-light bug zappers?” You asked, picking up the electric gloves and slipping them on. The hand was a thick cloth, shiny silver like aluminum, and up your forearms was a solid silver brace that ended a few inches below the crease of your elbow.

Mr. Eto paused, “Yes, I think they do.”

“How do I activate the shock mode?”

“Press the button on the inside of the wrist of the hand that you want to electrify-”

You found a small black button on the inside of the silver gloves, just where the metal wrapped around your forearms ended, and pressed it. A handful of sparks jumped off your fingertips and there was a quiet hum, softer than the hum that your powers created. You clenched and unclenched your fist. The gloves—well, the gloves fit like gloves.

“Nice,” you pressed the button and the hum stopped. “I'll take these ones, I can make gadgets to do what all the other ones do.”

Mr. Eto nodded. “Let's pick out the mask, then.”

You ended up selecting a mask made of the same black material as the body of your suit. It covered the top half of your face, your eyes were hidden under silver lenses with a convenient night vision filter, and your hair hidden under the hood.

“So, about the hood—I was expecting it to be tighter, like a scuba suit, or something-”

“Wait a second. Take a look at yourself,” Mr. Eto was grinning as he pushed you over to a mirror.

Standing in the mirror was what you could only describe as a terrifying badass. The indigo-violet of your suit almost glowed against the black, and the silver on your toes and arms and eyes glinted coldly, radiating danger. You turned, admiring yourself. “Holy shit. I look like a real superhero.”

Mr. Eto handed you something. “I almost forgot about your utility belt.”

The utility belt was made of the same shiny black as your suit. You quickly buckled it on, and looked in the mirror again.

You looked killer. Or _like_ a killer. Either way, you looked amazing.

“I look amazing, Mr. Eto. Like holy fucking shit,” the swears slipped out of you, you were too awed to filter yourself.

He laughed. “I'm glad you like my work. Now, what were you saying about the hood?”

“Won't it fall off if it's loose like this?”

“Aha, not to worry. It clips. Let me show you.”

Mr. Eto reached up and clipped the front and sides of the hood to the front and sides of your mask.

“Like this, see?”

You turned around, skeptical. You were surprised to see that it looked more or less the same.

“Are any of your senses blocked by the hood?”

You looked out of the corner of your eye through the silver lens. The hood should have blocked your vision, but instead of being impossible to see through, or even making everything blurry through it, everything was still crystal clear—only now it was black and white. Mr. Eto moved, the color of his blue shirt jumping out at you through the corner of your eye-

“Woah, wait a second-”

Mr. Eto's smile spread from ear to ear. “Impressed again? It looks the same as the black of the rest of your suit, but I designed it for masks. I almost used it for your eyes, but figured night-vision would be more useful.”

“Everything's black and white, but when you move-”

“I'm in color? I know, isn't it amazing?! This way you can trick people into thinking they're sneaking up on you, but catch them at the last second! It would have been simpler without the hood like this, I know, but I'm a sucker for aesthetic. And if someone's going to be out there seen by people in something I designed, I want them to look kickass.”

You didn't even know what to say. You were staring at yourself in the mirror, moving so you could see every angle, subconsciously posing.

“I have Mr. Adams here to see Black Light.”

Mr. Eto turned around, you following suit. It was the tall beefy white bald muscle dude from your first visit. Mr. Adams was walking through the door.

“Impressive suit, Mr. Eto. You've truly outdone yourself this time!”

Mr. Eto smiled, “Thank you, sir.” He gave a small bow with his hands behind his back.

“Let's see it, turn around for me.”

You turned, quickly, letting Mr. Adams see the whole suit.

“Excellent. I take it you got my message earlier?”

“The one about my assignment?”

“That's the one. It's not very exciting, more of a precautionary errand really.”

“What's the job?”

“Have you heard of the Daredevil of Hell's Kitchen? He's been showing up places he shouldn't be.”

* * *

 

When you'd briefly wondered about meeting Daredevil last Thursday, and half jokingly wondered at that, you hadn't expected to be lying in wait for him at the docks in Hell's Kitchen just a few days later. Needless to say, it wasn't your usual Sunday night.

You were perched on top of one of the many metal shipping crates that made up the maze of the docks. You didn't know what Daredevil was after or what it had to do with A.I.M., but you did know your body was tense with adrenaline and you were ready to kick some unholy ass. Your ears were being crushed by the heavy weight of silence as you stood, turning slowly, waiting for some sign of the devil.

A thump behind you on the metal.

You spun around, fists glowing and humming.

“It's a little late for you to be hanging around the docks, don't you think?”

You bent your knees, shifting into fighting position. The man in front of you was dressed in a deep crimson red. Leather, you noted. He stood eerily still, feet shoulder width apart.

“The horns are a nice touch,” you said dryly, adopting your false accent. “Bit dramatic, don't you think? Dressing up like the devil?”

A soft breath escaped his nose, almost a chuckle. “They called me the devil first. I just went with it.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

“What are you here for?”

Ah, that's right. He didn't know who you were.

“Ah, how rude of me,” you bent your knees slightly, feet beginning to glow as you prepared to jump at him. “Here I am knowing all about you when I haven't even introduced myself. They call me Black Light.” You leaped, aiming a punch at his head. He must have seen it coming though, it wasn't like you were trying to surprise him, and he blocked your fist, sliding backwards on the steel of the shipping container. He looked surprised. You lowered your voice, now that you were a mere foot away from his face. “And I've been sent to kick your ass.”

He pushed away from you, flipping backwards off of the shipping container and landing in the gravel below. You followed, landing six feet behind him in a crouch, and rose slowly.

Okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic. But you looked _so cool_ and you felt _so badass_ , it just wouldn't be fair if you didn't get to make one-liners.

“That's funny,” Daredevil said, posturing himself to make his own attack. “I haven't heard of you.” He bolted towards you, moving as if he was going to hit you in the side of the head.

“I'm new to the scene, that's probably why,” you grunted, ducking under his arm, going to grab his wrist and flip him over, but he was one step faster and he grabbed your arm with his free one, you tightened your grip on his wrist—fuck, your hand was too small, your fingers couldn't reach all the way around—he pulled, you let go but now your back was to him and he was holding your right forearm with his left hand, and his hands were big enough to close all the way around. He spun you so you were facing him.

“Who sent you?”

You went to punch him in the nose, but he grabbed your other forearm. You could see he was straining to hold on to the smooth metal braces that wrapped around your forearms, the vibration of your powers going through his hands and up into his arms.

“Who sent you?”

You kicked him in the stomach. He stumbled back, hands unable to keep hold.

“I think you know who sent me,” you punched before he regained balance, landing one in the center of his chest. He stumbled again, the force of your glowing fist almost knocking him over.

“A.I.M.,” he grunted, regaining balance and dodging your fist and lashing out with a punch of his own. You ducked, and then jumped as he spun, leg out to knock you off your feet. “They're corrupt.”

“Buddy, the whole fuckin' world is corrupt,” you blocked a fist, knocking it aside with your arm, and almost landed another blow, spinning out of his reach when he almost grabbed your arm again.

The two of you were fighting blurs now, both unable to land a blow.

Until, of course, one of you did. You'd managed to land a few early on, by catching Daredevil by surprise. He hadn't gotten you until now, having figured out your style.  
The blow was hard, and caught you in the stomach. You stumbled back, almost falling over, but saved by the corrugated steel wall of another shipping container behind you.

“Oh, fuck, dude-” you gasped for breath. “I haven't gotten hit that hard by anything since robot training at school-”

Daredevil went to grab you again, but was met by both of your feet kicking him in the stomach, glowing legs launching him a solid eight feet away. He landed on his back, hard, groaning quietly.

You let out a breathless laugh, standing up straight and catching your breath. You walked over to him as he was rolling over to his side. You paused. You'd never hit a man while he was down before, and it's not like you were shy of violence, but this was only your second fight in a very long time-

Your hesitation cost you. He grabbed your no-longer-glowing ankle and yanked, knocking you down onto your back. You gasped desperately—if you thought the wind was knocked out of you before, then now you were planet Druidia from the movie Spaceballs after they'd sucked away the atmosphere.

Daredevil was getting up, but you weren't about to let him. It was your first day on the job, and you were _not_ about to let this guy fuck it up for you. You lashed out with a boot, kicking him in the side of the head with your steel toe, knocking him over, and scrambled for higher ground. Now kneeling above him, you lunged down, grabbing his neck, pressing your right knee into the center of his chest.

“Don't move, or I'll electrocute you. I haven't used these yet, and I forgot to ask how high the voltage is, so I'd listen if I were you.”

Daredevil froze, one hand around the wrist of the hand at his neck, the other floating, now frozen, in the air as if he was about to fight back.

What the hell were you supposed to do with him now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAH surprise! Daredevil is here! I love him so I had to! Especially with his history of fighting corrupt organizations and crime rings and junk, it only makes sense that he's be catching onto A.I.M., right?
> 
> Don't worry, there's an actual reason Reader is already so good at fighting but that's backstory that we don't really need to get into yet.
> 
> Anyway I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! I'm about halfway through chapter 6 right now but I lost part of it so it's going to be a little longer again. Thanks for reading!


	6. The New Addition to the City's Super Scene

There you were, masked and pinning the famous Daredevil down into the gravel, knee on his chest and one hand around his throat, the other raised and ready to press the button at your wrist and electrocute him to take him out.

You couldn't see his eyes through his mask, and he couldn't see your expression through yours, but he sensed your hesitation anyway.

“You won't.” His hand was on the back of yours, fingers having wiggled their way ever so slightly between your palm and his esophagus, gripping but not quite pulling you off his throat. “You're scared. What now?”

You clenched your jaw, and reached to press the button on the inside of your wrist—but his free hand grabbed your forearm, stopping you before you got more than a few inches closer to your other glove. Now you were locked in a stalemate. You couldn't make a move without opening up an escape for him, and he couldn't move without risking his neck. Literally.

You pressed your weight forward, increasing pressure on his neck.

“You don't want to do this,” his words struggled out past your vice-like grip, coming out strained. He was starting to struggle for air.

You kept pressing.

He must have gotten a rush of adrenaline, because he was starting to pry your hand off his neck. You were panicking—what if he died? What if you killed him? In your panic, you took your knee off his chest, accidentally giving him the open he would need.

He kicked you off. You heard a deep gasp before your back hit the ground, and by the time you got yourself back up, you saw his red suit disappearing around the corner of a blue shipping container.

Checking to make sure your hood was still secure, you crouched, letting violet energy build up in your legs. They started to glow, the vibration of your feet absorbed by the rubber in the soles of your boots, and you jumped, landing atop the blue container he'd disappeared behind. You saw him running, already about three containers away, and began to chase. You weren't exactly quiet, the clang-thump of your feet on the steel boxes echoing over the subtle crunch of gravel under Daredevil's feet.

You cursed yourself for letting him get away and not just shocking him unconscious when you had the chance.

He was crossing the empty space between the stacks of shipping containers and the actual docks, and was in the space where heavy machinery for loading and unloading ships rested.

You were picking up speed now, legs and arms glowing, each step leaving a small dent in your wake. If you'd noticed you'd only be a little surprised; you had broken the treadmill at the A.I.M. lab, after all.

Reaching the end of the boxes, you jumped as hard as you could, landing a mere six feet behind the devil. He spun around, fist aiming high. You ducked, his fist went past your ear and brushed your hood on the retreat. You dropped, spinning with your leg out, but he jumped over it with ease.

The next few moments were a blur of fists flying and arms blocking. You were both starting to figure out the other's style.

“You're not using your powers,” he grunted, smacking aside a jab at his ribs.

You dodged a hit. “Yeah, because I'm supposed to stop you, not kill you.”

“They told you not to kill?”

You hesitated, dodging again. They hadn't told you not to kill, in fact they'd heavily implied they wanted you to do the opposite and actively try to kill Daredevil if you had the chance. You stayed silent, focusing on your punches.

“Have you killed before?”

You didn't answer.

“They didn't tell you not to, did they?” He bent sideways, dodging a fist to his face. “You don't want to kill.”

Silence from you.

You turned on your gloves, spinning out of the way of his kick, narrowly avoiding a hit to your ribs. You finally landed a punch, the electricity surging through his muscles and making him seize up. He dropped.

“Just because I don't want to kill doesn't mean I won't,” you said, voice low as you stopped to catch your breath. You knew you didn't mean your words. At least, not yet.

Daredevil didn't get back up. You knelt down, ear close to his face listening for breath. Warm air brushed across your face. It seemed you'd knocked him out, but he was definitely alive. You grabbed him under his arms and began to drag him away, using your powers to give you enough strength to lift at least his whole torso off the ground.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, dropping your false accent. You found a dumpster, and with a reasonable amount of effort, tossed him in.

There was a thud—the dumpster was empty, then—and a groan. He was waking up.

By the time he pulled himself out, you were long gone.

* * *

 

The next day you were on your way to class, walking from the subway to campus when you passed a newspaper stand laden with papers, magazines, and cigarette ads. You glanced over the papers when _The Daily Globe_ caught your eye, a tabloid newspaper known for it's coverage of local politics, business, crime, and occasionally, it's unbiased reporting on local superheroes. Underneath the main headline, a story about a new and important science lab opening, were three prominently displayed black and white stills of you as Black Light fighting Daredevil. The first was a dramatic freeze frame of the two of you exchanging blows, your face hidden by your hood, his face, though grainy, was stoic and serious. The second was of the punch that knocked him out. It was dramatic, blurry as all hell, and Daredevil was mid fall. In the third you were dragging him away, and you were glowing, your face hidden under your mask, lips twisted in a grimace.

 

**SECRETIVE SUPER DECKS DAREDEVIL: WHO IS THE NEW ADDITION TO HELL'S KITCHEN?**

Local dock workers got quite the shock late Sunday night when a fight erupted just past midnight. It seems everyone's favorite masked devil has a new rival, but who is she? And what was the super scuffle about? (Read more on page B2)

 

“This ain't a library, pay up if you're gonna read up.”

You looked up, meeting the eyes of an apathetic balding man. You mumbled an apology, and dug up some money from your bag, payed and then left quickly, newspaper in hand.

You arrived at campus and rushed to your first class, the paper on your purse scratching at your thoughts. After class you bought a hot drink from the cheerful boy at the coffee cart, and sat on a bench to read the paper before going to your next class with Noble. You'd barely gotten past the word 'scuffle' before someone was sitting down next to you-

“I didn't know you read newspapers.” It was Peter, a camera slung around his neck and messenger bag hanging off his shoulder.

You smiled at him. “Occasionally,” you folded the paper, and rested it on your lap. “What are you doing on campus so early?”

He lifted his camera in one hand, smiling. “Photography class homework.”

“I didn't know you did photography.” You turned toward him, adjusting your grip on your drink and on the newspaper.

“I dabble.”

“What kind of stuff do you usually do?”

“Uh, this and that, kind of whatever catches my eye. I do some freelance work here and there.”

You sat with Peter, talking about his photography, he even showed you some of his work, until you finished your drink and it was time to go to class. You walked together to Noble's class, him holding the door open for you.

“Ah, Y/l/n! Come here for a moment,” Noble was already in the classroom, setting up her materials.

You smiled at Peter apologetically.

“I'll go grab a couple of desks,” he smiled at you and wandered off to find two open desks next to each other.

You walked over to Noble. “Afternoon, Professor.”

She fixed you with a stern look. “Was that you last night?”

You paused. You knew exactly what she meant.

“Yeah, that was me.”

“You need to be careful, Y/l/n. They don't like a lot of publicity.”

“It's not like I wear a logo or anything, and they sent me-”

“Regardless, be careful. You may have to answer to them now, but I still need you for my own work. Don't forget that."

You nodded and swallowed. “I understand.”

Noble glanced behind you. “Any closer to Stark's labs?”

You looked down. “I don't wanna rush it.”

She stared at you, eyes boring into you as if digging for something. She looked away and sighed. “Go have a seat, I'll see you at my lab later this week.”

You nodded and turned away, and went to sit near Peter.

“What was that about?” He looked at you, concerned, as you unloaded your bag and sat at your desk.

You glanced at him. “Just rearranging schedules for another office meeting.” You laid out your note supplies, avoiding his gaze. “I told her about your friend who wants me to meet Stark, she was wondering about that too.”

“Oh, yeah, about that-”

You looked up.

“There's an event this weekend he's throwing, some charity fundraiser that I'm gonna be taking pictures at, but uh—if you wanted to maybe go, too-? I mean, I'd be working the whole time but Stark said I can bring someone, if I wanted, and you two were gonna meet and talk shop at some point anyway, so-”

“Are you asking me to go to a charity fundraiser with you? A fundraiser thrown on by Tony Stark?”

“Uh, yeah. It's formal, so if you don't-”

“Peter, are you kidding me? I'd love to!”

He broke into a large grin. “Yeah?”

You smiled back. “Just tell me when, so I can find something appropriate to wear.”

Noble cleared her throat at the front of the hall. “Alright does everyone have their notes out? Ready to start? Good. Now, starting off from where we left off last class...”

* * *

 

After class, Peter took you to lunch at a taqueria you sometimes went to with Stacy. It was a smaller place, maybe only fifty tables, and a very casual relaxed atmosphere. Each booth had shiny vinyl tables and hard benches, and there were two TV sets perched in the corners of the room up high where everyone could easily watch. One had a sports game neither you nor Peter cared much about, and the other was playing the news, though you were too busy wiping away tears of laughter at a joke Peter had just told to pay attention to what was on the screen.

Peter was grinning, fist over his mouth stifling his own laughter so as not to disturb the only other two people in the restaurant. Eventually your shared mirth died down, and even though your cheeks hurt, you couldn't stop smiling. You both ate chips, smiling and talking and giggling, and when your food finally came you looked away from Peter long enough to thank the server.

And then the TV in the corner caught your eye.

You paused, staring at the security footage from your fight with Daredevil, the same fight on the front page of the newspaper still in your purse. The slightly grainy black-and-white footage played on one half of the screen, while the other half showed a brightly lit and colorful news broadcaster talking about the footage on the left.

Peter saw you pause and followed your gaze to the TV. “Oh, wow,” he said as the masked version of yourself knocked Daredevil out and began to drag him away. He looked at you.

You looked at him. “Do you think Daredevil is okay? That looked pretty serious...”

“I'm sure he's going to be fine, he's a tough cookie. And if he wasn't, somebody would have found him, and we'd definitely be hearing about it by now,” Peter tried to reassure you.

You felt bad playing dumb with Peter. Of course, you knew Daredevil was fine, having checked yourself before ditching him in a dumpster. You nodded. “Yeah, you're probably right.” You looked down at your food and began to eat, changing the subject to today's class with Noble. You missed it when Peter narrowed his eyes slightly at the TV as the clip of you landing the decisive blow on Daredevil replayed.

After the two of you ate, Peter had to go to work, so you parted ways, him catching a cab to The Daily Bugle, and you heading home on the subway, where you finally got to reading the paper you'd picked up earlier that day, opening it to page B2 to read the full article about your fight. Above the short blurb was another still of you two facing off, less dramatic than the three on the front.

 

** THE NEW ADDITION TO THE CITY'S SUPER SCENE **

Not much is yet known of the new party introduced to the superhero scene on Sunday night, but given our knowledge of Daredevil we can presume a few details on what she was doing picking a fight with one of our favorite local vigilantes. We all remember a few years back when Daredevil exposed a ring of corruption and greed underneath recovery and development plans for Hell's Kitchen, and sent the now notorious Wilson Fisk to jail. Given our devil's obvious desire for justice and intolerance of general wrong-doing, it's fair to assume he was on the trail of a new conspiracy. Though whether his current project is big or small remains to be seen. So what was our glowing friend doing at the docks, and what does this mean for Daredevil to finally have someone tough enough to knock him down that's not on his side? If Daredevil really is on the trail of a new “bad guy,” it would appear whatever they're doing is important enough to find a new super to keep heroes out of their business. Or, perhaps, this time it was personal. Only time will tell.

 

You were going to be in so much trouble with A.I.M. Your stomach felt wobbly at the thought. You reread the article. The second to last sentence stuck out to you. Personal? How in the hell would it be personal? Was it supposed to be some kind of superpowered lovers' spat? You bristled. But, if you could find a way to make Black Light look like she had a personal agenda, it could throw off the media from A.I.M...

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you stowed the paper in your purse again. It buzzed a second time as you were pulling it out to check your notifications.

A text from Stacy. She wanted to know if you had plans that night.

And a second text, from an unknown number. _Please report to the offices in uniform tonight._

 _Oh,_ _fuck._

You got home, where Stacy was making dinner.

“Hey! Did you get my text?” She smiled at you as you closed the front door behind you, wearing sweatpants and a tank top, round and soft cheeks framed by strands of her blonde hair falling from her perfectly messy bun. There was a pot on the stove gently letting off clouds of steam, and the window in the oven door was glowing a soft orange around her knees. Upbeat music was playing through the speakers in the living room.

“Yeah, I have to go in to work tonight. I've got time for dinner though, I know you're excited about the new pesto recipe.” You hung up your coat and your keys, kicking off your shoes by the front door and then disappearing into your room for a second to put away your purse and plug your phone in to charge.

You emerged from your room. “Need any help with anything?”

Stacy shrugged. “Nah, the salmon is going to be done soon and I just have to drain the pasta and mix in the pesto. Do you wanna set the table maybe?”

“I can do that,” you got out plates, and then set your charmingly banged up silverware out on the table.

The nice thing about living with a girl like Stacy was how easy everything was. She was the kind of person that got along with everybody, she always knew where people's boundaries were and often knew how someone was feeling and what someone needed based on their mood before even they did. She didn't ask you anything about why you suddenly had to go into work that night, which you were unspeakably grateful for. What were you supposed to say if she had? That you'd kicked Daredevil's ass and now it was on some minor news outlets and your new evil mastermind employers were probably really annoyed with you?

You both caught up with one another over dinner, and apparently meeting her sort-of-boyfriend's sister had gone well. Things with the two of them were starting to get a little more serious, and he wanted to take her out on his family's boat for the weekend.

“He has a boat? Oh my god Stacy, are you dating a wasp or something?”

She giggled nervously. “I think I am. I guess his family lives on the Upper-East Side? His sister told me some stories about him, it's all very _Gossip Girl_ actually. But he's like, well, he's not a shitty guy at all and he seems to be aware of how well off he has it, which is really cool.”

“You're like the New York version of Kate Middleton or something, oh my god,” you laughed.

“Shut up Y/n, he's rich, he's not royalty,” she grinned back. “Anyway, how's it coming along with Peter?”

You grinned. “It's nice. We hung out today before and after class and got some food, we're going on another sort-of-date, he's doing some photography at one of Tony Stark's events and he's allowed to bring a guest so he's bringing me as his plus one, so I have to find a nice dress for that, if you're free soon to help me shop.”

“He's taking you to a Stark party? Holy shit Y/n! That's amazing! I would kill to go to one of those!”

“Well it's technically a work thing for him, but he said he's got a friend who wants me to meet Tony Stark and talk about some tech stuff so if that goes well, I might be able to bring you to one sometime-”

“I always forget you're like a freaky science tech genius! Oh my god Y/n, are you going to get a job with Tony Stark?”

“I might, honestly. I already have a sort of job working with Noble for the same people that she works for when she's not teaching-”

“But you don't make any money with that right? I thought it was just an intern thing?”

“Actually I got officially employed, sort of? I don't know how well it's going to go, though.”

She nodded, seeing you were starting to get kind of anxious as you poked at your food. “That would be so cool if you got to work with Tony Stark though!”

You grinned. “Yeah, it would be pretty cool.”

You both finished eating and cleaned up together. Stacy plopped down in front of the TV to do some light homework and relax. You went into your room, putting on the body of the Black Light suit on underneath your clothes so you only had to carry the mask, boots, belt, and gloves with you. This time no black town car was waiting for you on the street, so you caught a cab to take you in the general direction of the secret A.I.M. building.

The cab dropped you off a good few blocks away, and then you walked in the dark the rest of the way. You didn't see another person the whole way, and when you finally arrived, the secretary inside the front door sent you straight to the office of Mr. Adams.

“Ah, Miss Y/l/n! I trust you're doing well? Have a seat!” Mr Adams was at his desk, his smile calm and cool.

You sat, silent, placing your bag on the floor.

“Where is your uniform?”

“I have it on under my clothes. The mask and everything are in my bag.” You paused, briefly. “Am I in trouble? I didn't realize there were cameras at the docks, and if I had-”

Mr. Adams laughed. “Oh, hardly! We can hardly get upset with a beginner making such a small mistake, and an easily fixable one at that.”

“How?”

“Simple. To throw them off, there are a few things we can do. Tonight we're going to stage a break-in, and make it look as if you stole something from the downtown A.I.M. building, though of course you'll just be bringing it all back to us here. That way nobody will suspect us of being the organization you work for.”

You nodded. It was a smart move.

“You'll also break into several other buildings tonight. It will look strange if we're the only business attacked. And you'll be taken far more seriously if you successfully pull off multiple robberies in one night. Of course, you'll have to be careful. There's a fair amount of heroes out and about the city, and it's almost certain one of them will try to stop you. A.I.M. will be the third place you break into. Our guards will know you're coming and make it easier for you, but you'll still have to treat it as a real break in. They all have full insurance, so feel free to break an arm or leg for a little added oompf. If a superhero catches onto you, it'll probably be around that point. After A.I.M., there's one more target. Here,” Mr. Adams pushed a small list towards you across his desk with a list of the targets. A small, up-and-coming genetic science lab, a big law office, A.I.M., and the OsCorp building.

“I'll go change, then. Do you want me to bring everything straight back here?”

Mr. Adams nodded. “Preferably, though if you can't get here without being followed, hide it somewhere else. You're resourceful.”

“I'll go change then.”

Twenty minutes later and you were creeping through the dark genetics lab. You quickly found the lab computers and easily got through their security, plugging in the flash drive hanging from a retractable cord at your utility belt. You found the file you needed, simply labeled “Gene X Activation” and loaded it onto the flash drive. You left without trouble, they didn't even have human security at the building.

You left quickly, making your way to the law office. You found what you needed quickly, a scanned copy of Norman Osborn's will. You were gone barely three minutes after you'd arrived, too quick for the guard monitoring the security cameras to catch you.

A.I.M. was more interesting. It was a bigger building with more valuable contents, and therefore more security. They knew you were coming, and they knew not to give you too much trouble. Just enough to make it looks real on the cameras. Entering the building through an office window, your adrenaline started to spike. The office was pitch black, and a soft light glowed from under the solid door. You had to make your way to the other side of the building, and go up a whole floor to get out.

You started the trek, seeing only the tail ends of the guards you passed. They never saw you—they'd timed it so you could get there without hassle. It was on your way out that you'd have to do the fighting. You arrived at the lab, stealing a random file on experimental regeneration, and then started your escape route. You had to go halfway back they way you'd came to get to the staircase, and then up to the next floor where you could escape onto the roof of the next building. It was at the stairs where you ran into the first three guards.

“Stop!” One of them yelled, the shortest one, as he ran towards you as you stood in the doorway. You grabbed his arm, stepping aside, and threw him into the hallway behind you. Another guard was running towards you from down the hallway behind you, and you slammed the door shut, breaking the handle off with a glowing fist after locking it. You turned to face the other two guards, blocking the staircase.

“Your security cameras have sound or color?” You asked the two guards in your false accent.

They just looked at each other.

While they were looking away from you, you powered up your legs and bolted up the stairs, going so fast that you left a faint purple streak behind you, knocking one of them over the railing onto the flight below. He didn't fall too far. You reached out and shocked the other one with your glove, she tensed and shook, then fell down the stairs when you let go and ran past her, your legs no longer glowing. Three more guards burst through the door you were running towards, you knocked one against the wall, he collapsed, the other two ran to grab you and you shocked one of them, he dropped and you spun to block a punch from the next one. She was shorter than you, but surprisingly sturdy. You tripped her onto her face, darting through the door and locked her in the stairwell with the rest of the guards. Running down the hall was another guard. You dislocated his arm, and ran down the hall without a pause, and escaped out a window as another guard showed up and yelled after you.

You made your way to OsCorp next, pausing just a building over to take a breather for a minute, before jumping from the roof in a blurry glowing ball of purple to crash through a glass window, rolling across the carpeted floor as the glass landed around you. You stood, brushing yourself off, and looked around, quickly finding the alarm system and shutting it off just before it started to sound. Quietly, you made your way up a few flights of stairs and into the upper labs. You found an important looking lab, and began to look for the files you needed on the computer.

“New uniform?”

You turned around, caught red-handed.

“Spider-Man. Nice to see you again. You back for another ass-whooping?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand Spider-Man is back! You fought Daredevil and won, how cool!  
> I feel like not much happens in this chapter even though it's 4.5k words which is a bit more than the other ones. Let me know what you think!


	7. A Less Than Friendly Wrestle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been almost a month since I last updated, thank you all for waiting! I've been dealing with some stuff, but I have another two chapters in progress right now so I should be updating more frequently again!

“New costume?” Spider-Man asked casually, leaning slightly on one leg and gesturing to your new suit. “I like it. Better than the old one. I wish you'd kept the pointy ears, what am I supposed to call you now that you're not a kitty-cat?”

“Well, you could call me Black Light, since that's who I am,” you said dryly, turning away to finish your work with the computer. You found the files easily, loading them onto the flash drive before you unplugged it and clipped it back onto your utility belt. You could see Spider-Man watching you from the corner of your eye through your hood. Why was he just standing there? You turned to face him.

“I'm afraid I can't let you leave with that flash drive.”

You rolled your eyes, though he couldn't see them underneath your mask. “Oh, please.”

“Just hand it over so we can skip the whole fighting thing and get to the making up part,” he held out his hand.

“Fat chance, bug boy.”

“Okay, first of all, kitty-cat,” he started to circle you. “I'm not just any bug, I'm a _spider_ -”

“I don't really care, you're still a bug, and you better get out of my way before I use my bug zappers on you.” You shifted, beginning to circle him as well.

“Oh, you mean like you zapped Daredevil with? I was actually kind of impressed, _shocked_ , even,” you could tell from the way his posture shifted he was getting ready to make a move.

“Did you just make a pun? In the middle of a square off?”

“I might have. Not impressed?”

“Not really.”

“Bummer.”

That's when he sprang, raising his right hand to shoot a web onto the high ceiling. He jumped, legs forward as he came at you like a human wrecking ball. You saw it coming from a mile away, and jumped aside. His momentum carried him past you to a good height off of the floor as his swing started to slow, he let go and used the momentum to land on the ceiling, hanging upside down from his hands and feet.

You ran through one of the many pairs of glass doors, ending up in a dim lit large room full of microscopes, steel tables, and white surfaces. Spider-Man wasn't far behind, swinging in through the doors behind you as you neared the doors on the opposite end of the room. You pushed through them, entering a room full of glass tanks that contained reptiles. One of the lizards had five legs, a snake had patches of feathers, another had a back covered in glowing eyes—you kept running, and found yourself in a large hallway. You followed it past a number of other doors, Spider-Man close behind you.

“Leaving so soon? I thought we were having fun!”

You opened a door and found yourself in a janitorial closet, you skid to a stop, your momentum having carried you almost to the far the wall, and turned around, maybe you would be able to get out before he caught up—but he was in the doorway.

You sighed.

“Lost?” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You shifted your stance, arms and fists glowing indigo violet, and swung. Spider-Man jumped out of the way and you ran for it again, with him following you close behind once again.

You started to think you were lost until you came to the lobby, located at what you figured was probably the very front of the building given the broad windows across the far wall. There was a sleek curved desk against one wall, the ceiling was sloped up into a dome and ended in a large architectural lamp-chandelier hybrid, currently off. There were a few benches on the side of the room by the windows, and a glass elevator across from the desk. You paused in the middle of the room, turning around to face Spider-Man, who skid to a stop. For a moment, you thought his pose looked like a surfer balancing on a wave. He looked at you, glanced around the room, and landed on you again.

“Gonna make a move or what, bug boy? The chasing thing is starting to get tired,” you put your hands on your hips, putting all of your weight onto one leg, looking at him. You were taunting him, which wasn't your usual style. It wasted time. But it was so fun, and so easy, and he kept teasing you, so you might as well reciprocate.

“I thought you liked the chasing. At least, _I_  was having fun.”

“Why don't you come a little closer and see if you can catch me?”

“Don't mind if I do.” He shot a web up into the lights, jumping up with it and swinging in a half circle around you.

You turned, facing him the whole time. He shot a web out at you, still swinging—it seemed he was trying to wrap you up like a bug. You ducked, rolling to the side, and the web landed behind where you had been standing. He was still swinging in his circle, and you were closer to the arc of his path. He shot another web out, and you let it land on your arm. You swung your arm in a circle as he glided past you, wrapping the web around the metal brace on your forearm, grabbed with both hands and pulled, his smooth circular path destroyed as the web connecting you two pulled him off course, and he began to swing back to you. He let go of the web connecting you and shot another into the chandelier, redirecting his path so he swung over you instead of colliding with you, and landed on the ceiling. You tore off the web from your arm, and while you had your face turned away from him, he jumped, swinging straight back towards you. You saw him coming of course, his red-and-blue suit standing out through the visual filter of your hood. You turned at the last second, bracing yourself for impact and he crashed into you, your hands out to protect yourself.

You fell, and he came crashing down with you, you both landing in a tangle of limbs, the air knocked out of you. You rolled over, pinning him down, straddling his waist and hand at his neck—this was like Daredevil all over again.

“Oh, wow, at least buy me dinner first,” he quipped, breathless, as he grabbed your forearm, one hand on the inside of your elbow and the other on the metal. He pushed at the inside of your elbow and your arm buckled, his other hand pulling your forearm against his chest, bringing your torso and face down closer to his, and he pushed with his legs and hips, flipping both of you over.

Spider-Man was on his knees above you both hands holding your right arm. Your legs were bent, knees just barely grazing the outsides of his hips, a mere foot or so of space between you two. You smelled something familiar underneath the smell of the spandex and cloth and sweat, but it was gone before you knew what it was. You were breathing hard, and only partly from the running and fighting.

“When I said to make a move I wasn't quite expecting _this_ ,” you took a second to analyze your position. Your other hand was free, you could hit him in the side of the head and since he wasn't using his body to actually pin you, you could use your legs to kick him off if you really wanted—

“What did you take from the computers anyway?”

You sighed. “Business again? I was starting to have _fun_ ,” you pulled your legs back up against yourself and he pressed forward just slightly—damn, now there wasn't room to kick him off. You went to hit him, he blocked your arm with his. You wrapped your legs around him and used your whole body to roll him over, efficiently tangled together at this point. Now you were straddling him again. You hit him in the face, once, twice, and rolled off, springing to your feet and turning on the ball of your foot to face him again just as he flipped up onto his feet, between you and the windows.

“I can't just let you take whatever is on the flash drive.”

“Oh yeah? Because you don't seem to _really_ be trying to stop me—”

He shot out a web, it landed on your leg, and he yanked, pulling you off your feet and knocking you onto your back, shooting out two more webs to pin your arms to the ground as you rolled over. You grunted, ripping yourself free easily, arms now glowing and humming.

“You'd better move out of the way before I piss off Mr. Harry Osborn by getting to you before he has a chance for his revenge.”

Spider-Man tensed, frozen in place. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“ _What did you just say?_ ”

“Not important. But I know what happened.” You felt a twinge of guilt using the secret Peter had told you on your first date against a stranger, but you pushed it away.

“It wasn't my fault. It was an accident.”

“Harry Osborn doesn't seem to think so. Look, I've got places to be and I'd love to stay and chat but I've got a schedule to keep.”

Spider-Man was speechless.

“Are you going to let me go?”

“I can't just-”

You ran towards him and he braced himself, you swung a few punches, he blocked them. Eventually you knocked him down with a kick to the chest, and before he'd fully hit the ground, you were crashing through the big glass window and falling towards the street.

Fuck, the next building was too far! What did you have in your utility belt? Flash drive, lock pick kit, some experimental gadgets—grappling hook gun! You'd barely fallen two stories before you'd gotten out the grappling hook, aiming it in no particular direction, and launched it. It caught onto something, and you were swinging now, instead of falling—swinging towards a solid steel wall. You hit a side button and the rope started to retract, you were flying up—up—and then you were dangling on the edge of the rooftop. You pulled yourself up over the edge of the building and stretched your arm. Your shoulder was definitely going to be sore for a day or two.

You turned back to look at the OsCorp building, and saw Spider-Man looking out the broken window at you. Why wasn't he chasing you?

You blew a kiss at him and ran across the top of the building, escaping off the other side using your grappling hook to swing to the next building that was too far to jump to, even with your powers. You'd definitely be using the grappling gun more often after this.

Spider-Man didn't follow you, so you went straight back to the super secret A.I.M. lair, still in full costume, where you were greeted immediately by Mr. Adams and his big bald body guard.

“Well done, Black Light! Well done indeed! What an excellent job you did at the offices! I have to say I'm thoroughly impressed! Did you run into any trouble at all?”

You shook your head, unhooking the flash drive from your belt and handing it over. “I ran into Spider-Man, we got into a small fight but I got away pretty easily.” You paused. “If you can get me in touch with Harry Osborn, I think I might have a way to take Spider-Man down for good. I know he's been causing a lot of trouble.”

Mr. Adams was positively beaming. “I'll have someone find out his schedule and pass it to you so you can pay him a visit. I'm very pleased with your work tonight. Do you have any injuries?”

“Nah, I'm okay. Thanks.”

“You'll find payment for your first week of your work in your bank account tomorrow. Take some time off, go do something fun maybe!” Mr. Adams pat your shoulder, and nodded to baldy, who handed your bag of regular clothes back. “If you'd like to change, there's a room right over there.”

You thanked Mr. Adams and changed in a side room off of his office. Baldy escorted you out, taking you to a town car outside which then took you home.

Your arm was starting to get sore from the fall and subsequent yanking from the grappling hook. You checked the time, surprised that it was only midnight. You did a few stretches in your room, tossing your bag with your Black Light disguise into your closet, boots making a heavy thump as they hit the floor. You changed into your favorite warm pajamas, noting the clouds outside your window, and climbed into your warm, clean bed, thinking over the night's events before you fell asleep.

You woke up in a cold sweat at six thirty in the morning, according to your phone, with rain pounding against your window. The sheets were tangled around your legs, and your blankets hanging off the corner of your bed. You looked around your room, pushing yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your face and leaning back on one arm. You didn't know what had gotten you so worked up in your sleep, but your heart was pounding and you knew you wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.

You checked your phone again. That's right, it was Tuesday. No classes, just work at Noble's lab that afternoon. You could tell her you were finally meeting Tony Stark, make plans to scout out his building and find out where he kept his toys. You took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. Your heart was steadying, but you still felt a knot of dread in your stomach. What on earth had you dreamed about?

You lay in bed for another solid twenty minutes, trying to use a mediation app Stacy recommended to calm you down. It helped a little with the knot in your gut, but you were still tense, so you got out of bed at six fifty-two and filled up the bathtub with hot water and epsom salts for your tense and sore muscles, soaking until the water went from scalding to lukewarm. Stacy emerged from her bedroom as you emerged from the bathroom, and you made eye contact across the open kitchen and living room space.

“Wow, you're up early,” she punctuated her sentence with a yawn.

“Woke up and then couldn't fall back asleep,” you explained, crossing the space to your room.

“Probably the rain, woke me up a few times too.”

“Yeah, probably.” You dropped your towel, putting on some underwear and dressing into a cozy sweater and jeans. Your phone buzzed. A text from Peter.

_Good morning!_

You smiled, unplugging your phone and taking it with you into the kitchen, typing out a reply.

_Good morning! Have you had breakfast yet?_

An almost immediate response.

_Not yet, did you wanna go get a bite?_

“Is that Peter?”

You looked up, Stacy was smiling and raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I think we're gonna go get breakfast.”

_Yeah, I know a good diner if you're up for it_

_Sure, I'm already out and about I'll come get your from your place_

“He's going to come meet me here and then we're going to that one diner,” you grinned at Stacy.

“Which date is this?”

“Three? Kinda, yeah. I dunno we've been just getting casual meals and stuff.”

“And I already get to meet him? How exciting!” She grinned back at you as she made herself breakfast in the kitchen, you watching over the back of the couch.

You laughed. “Don't scare him, okay? I really like him.”

“Scare him? Who, me?” Stacy looked at you, her voice jokingly scandalized. She flipped her bacon, grinning cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “I'm going to finish getting ready before he's here.” You disappeared into the bathroom, tidying up your appearance, and picked out a scarf and hat from your room to go with your favorite warm coat and your sweater. While you were putting on your shoes in your room, you heard a knock at the front door. How did Peter get inside the building? You rushed to put on your boots all the way so you could answer the door before Stacy, but as you stumbled out of your room she was already opening the front door.

Peter was standing in the doorway, wearing two coats, a dark blue scarf, and sporting a dark bruise across his cheekbone.

“You must be Peter!” Stacy greeted him in her most friendly voice, leaning against the door with one hand on her hip. You couldn't see her face but you knew she was looking him up and down, analyzing him. You knew the bruise on his cheek wasn't going to win him any points.

He smiled, eyes and teeth sparkling. “Yeah, you must be Stacy. Thanks for buzzing me in, it's a mess out there right now.” He spotted you coming towards the door and his smile grew, just a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Hey Y/n!”

“Peter, what happened to your face? Are you okay?”

He shrugged humbly. “I just got in the way of a robber, he knocked me down because I didn't jump out of the way in time. I'm okay, promise.” He pecked you on your cheek.

“Are you sure? It looks pretty nasty,” you reached up to touch it, he winced as your fingers grazed over the small cut at the center. “Did you put anything on it?”

“Yeah, I cleaned it up when I got home last night. I'm fine, I swear,” he laughed, reassuring you with a smile.

Stacy was watching you two with a faint smile. “Y/n, you should probably get your jacket and stuff before you leave.”

“Oh, right!” You smiled at Peter and darted back inside, quickly putting on your coat, and running into your room to grab your hat, scarf, and purse.

When you came back out, Stacy was saying something, and Peter was looking at her, listening seriously.

“I promise,” he said, and then saw you. He smiled immediately. “Ready to go?”

“Yup! What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothin' important. Bye Stacy, it was nice to meet you!”

“It was nice to meet you too, Peter! Have fun, Y/n!”

“Bye Stacy!” As you walked down the hallway, you glanced over your shoulder at Stacy, who winked and gave you a thumbs up before closing the front door. Peter took your hand as you neared the elevator, and you looked at him. He smiled at you, and pressed the button for the elevator to take you down.

The diner was fairly busy for eight on a Tuesday morning, but you two were able to find a table with no problem. You didn't have to wait long for the food, either.

Peter thanked the waiter, and then looking at his food, let out a groan. “Fuck,” he laid out a napkin on his lap. “I didn't realize how hungry I was.”

You laughed, digging into your own breakfast. “What do you have planned for the day?”

He swallowed his massive bite of food. “I've got some work and some homework, but not much. What about you?”

“I work at noon, not sure what time I get off though. Speaking of which, what's the plan for the Stark party?” You looked at him.

“I'll pick you up. It's Friday night, and it's formal, so I'm wearing a nice suit. Do you have something to wear?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine. What time is it and everything?”

“It starts at seven thirty, and I think the main party goes until ten, but knowing Tony Stark there's gonna be an after party. I'm just taking pictures of the fundraiser though, so if you want to go to the after party I won't be so distracted.”

“That sounds perfect, actually!”

Plans settled, you turned to talking about Peter's work. Then your work, which you brushed off by saying something about how it's more fun to see than talk about, and then school, and then shows, and then movies, and then movies you both wanted to see. Before you knew it, you were at the movies for a morning show of a new comedy, Peter's arm around you, both of you laughing. He was warm, and he smelled so, so nice... Where had you smelled that before...?

You brushed it off. You probably remembered the smell from when you two had first kissed. That was all. You looked at him. He felt you looking, and turned his head towards you, smiling.

“What?”

You smiled. “Nothing,” you whispered and turned back to watch the movie.

Peter walked you to the subway and gave you a long kiss goodbye, reluctant to part ways. But you needed to go to Noble's secret lab, and he had to go check in at _The Daily Bugle_ , so eventually you pulled apart, cold air replacing the warmth you'd shared just moments ago.

“I'll see you at school tomorrow?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I'll meet you before class by the coffee cart where you found me yesterday?”

“Perfect,” he said, smiling, and kissed you one more time, before running off to catch a cab. “Bye!”

“Bye!” You waved, watched him get into a cab, and then went down into the subway.

Noble noticed your good mood when you entered the lab, hanging up your coat and purse and donning your protective gear. She pointed it out.

“What's got you in such a good mood?” She was atop a ladder, attaching a metal shell to part of The Heart.

“I've got a date Friday night, and he's taking me to Tony Stark's fundraiser,” you said, almost singsong, as you took your seat at your work table. “He's working the event, taking pictures, so I figured I can slip off and poke around the tower since that's where the after party'll be. And then I can come back a few days later as Black Light and take whatever you need.”

Noble was ecstatic. “Y/l/n that's fantastic! Excellent work!”

You grinned.

“Did you see the news today at all? There's a huge story about multiple break ins last night, committed by a masked woman who calls herself 'Black Light.'”

You swiveled around in your seat. “I'm in the news again? Is Mr. Adams upset?”

“Not at all! The media is painting you as some rogue with a personal agenda. It's exactly what he wanted.”

“I guess I'm officially in the superhero game, then, if everyone knows what I'm called.”

“I suppose so.”

Work went by quickly, and the evening after that was a blur of homework and chores. The next day you met up with Peter before your shared class with Noble at the bench near the coffee cart, where you teased and giggled with each other until class. You went on a walk after class, before you had to go back to Noble's lab again before going home and falling asleep.

Thursday you slept in and went shopping for a dress to wear to the Stark party with Stacy, her shoving armfuls of fabric at you through the changing room door. As you turned in the mirror, examining what was probably the seventh or eighth dress you'd tried on, your phone went off. You checked it, eager for a momentary distraction from the shopping. It was a text from the unknown address you came to recognize as A.I.M., containing the schedule of one Harry Osborn for the rest of the day until Friday morning. You scanned it over, locking your phone and putting it back in your bag. You'd probably show up at his apartment, it'd give a more intimidating impression, you planned as you changed out of your dress and into the next one.

“Stacy, I need help zipping this one up!”

There was a knock on the changing room door, and you cracked it open.

“Ooh, this is the epitome of classy little black dress! It's perfect for you!” She zipped up the back, and you turned to look at yourself. The sleeves went to just above your elbows and the hem fell just on your knees. The silhouette was perfect, the style exactly what you liked. Up the center of your back was a thin shiny silver zipper, running from the small of your back up to the top.

“Oh, wow. I like this one,” you said, turning to see yourself from different angles.

“I definitely think you should wear this one, Y/n. Peter'll shit himself when he sees you.”

You laughed. “Fuck, I hope not.”

Stacy laughed. “I'll go turn the rest of these back in to the dressing room girls and meet you right outside, 'kay?”

“Okay. See you in a second.” You quickly changed out, after having Stacy unzip it again for you, and put on your own clothes. Stacy was waiting just outside the changing rooms like she'd promised, and accompanied you to the checkout, going over different makeup looks and which of your coats you could get away with wearing to the party, and-

“Y/n, we have to get you new shoes! All of your nice ones are too beat up for a Stark party!”

You groaned. “Oh, shit, you're right.” A sigh. “Okay, take me to that shoe place you love. But nothing too tall and nothing too loud, okay?” You didn't want to attract attention when you went sneaking off through the tower.

You chose some simple classic black suede heels, not too tall, not too short. You'd be able to run and hide around a corner in them if you needed, but you'd still be taller and your legs would look amazing. You also bought a few pairs of nude tights at the shoe store that matched your legs perfectly.

“You're going to look so killer, Y/n!” Stacy seemed even more excited than you did, swinging her shopping bag of shoes by her side as you walked to the subway to go home. Not that you weren't excited, you were just thinking about what you'd say to Harry Osborn once you broke into his home.

“It's going to be amazing. I'll try to take pictures at the party for you,” you shot her a smile.

“You seem distracted, are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I'm sorry. I got a text that I have to go to a last minute work meeting tonight, just thinking about how it's gonna go. I'm sure it's going to be fine, though.”

“What's the meeting about?”

You shrugged. “Just a potential collaboration type thing I might get involved with if it goes well. It's kind of important.”

“That's cool though!”

You grinned. “Yeah, pretty cool.”

At home you hung up your new black dress in your closet and stashed your new shoes in their box under your bed before eating leftovers with Stacy. It was dark out now, which meant it was time for you to get going. Stacy wished you luck as you went out the door, the Black Light suit on under your clothes. You went to the top of the building, where you changed in the stairwell and stashed your bag, before exiting and swinging off across town towards the building where Harry Osborn lived.


	8. The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two new chapters in one day?! Amazing!
> 
> Consider this my apology for making you wait so long.

It wasn't difficult to get into Harry Osborn's penthouse apartment. A.I.M. had given you the information you needed in order to get in unnoticed—all of the security was centered around indoor entrances, and the alarm system on the windows was easy to disable, at least it was for you. Breaking in through the terrace was a piece of cake.

The inside of the penthouse was not quite what you'd pictured for a rich young business inheritor. It looked like a real home, albeit a luxurious one, and not a showy bachelor pad. The couches and chairs were charcoal gray, decorated with colorful throw pillows, which contrasted with the snow-white walls and rich brown wooden floors. The surfaces were minimalist, sleek and unpresumptuous, and he even had a few fairly interesting art pieces on the larger wall spaces. Of course, there were elements that pointed to the resident being a rich young man in his twenties, like the gargantuan television and gaming apparatus tucked away in the media center.

According to the schedule you'd been sent, he wouldn't be home for at least forty-five minutes. So you poked around a bit. After scanning over and poking around the living room, you went to check out the other rooms. There were two bedrooms, one matching the general appearance of the house, though with more personal touches, the other obviously a guest room. The bathroom was almost half as big as the bedroom you had at your apartment with Stacy, and you found the size of the shower almost abhorrent, though you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to use it. The kitchen was an open space attached onto the living room. Marble counters, state of the art kitchen appliances, huge shiny steel refrigerator. On the fridge were various simple black magnets holding up pictures that Harry apparently liked enough to put on display. You looked over them, noting a theme. They were all of him and his friends or his father. Harry with Peter and a pretty big-eyed blonde girl at highschool graduation, smiling at the camera, another of the three of them laughing at graduation, clearly at something Peter said. Harry and Peter and the same girl ice-skating—Peter with his arm around her. One of Harry on vacation with his father, Norman. Harry in a suit standing proudly while Norman shook a woman's hand, her beaming with teeth as white as her labcoat. Harry with Peter at a funeral, solemn, an arm around Peter who had clearly been crying. A yearbook photo of the blonde girl, which turned out to be on a pamphlet—you took it down and opened it, curious.

It was a memorial pamphlet. You saw the words “ _In memory of Gwen Stacy_ ” and couldn't look further. This wasn't just Harry's business, it was Peter's, and he would tell you about her when he wanted you to know. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at the picture of Peter at what must have been her funeral.

There was another picture of a funeral, though this was along with an article about Norman Osborn's tragic death. You turned away from the refrigerator and sat on one of the couches, facing the entrance to the penthouse, waiting for Harry Osborn to come home.

You didn't have to wait long, having spent quite a bit of time looking around the apartment when you had arrived. Harry came home only seven minutes after you'd taken your seat on his couch.

The front door was around a short corner, hiding the living room from view. Harry's arrival was announced by the sound of keys turning in the lock, and the door swung open.

“-know, babe, it's okay. Nah, I'll just go with Peter, he's finally seeing someone again and I want to meet whoever it is.” A pause, as the front door closed and you heard his footsteps approach. “Yeah, I understand. I'll see you when you get back. I miss you too.” There was the soft click of a light switch and all of the lights came on in the kitchen and living room. Harry rounded the corner, pocketing his phone, and froze as he saw you, legs crossed and seated on his couch, one arm across the back, the other casually examining one of the pillows on his couch. You glanced up at him.

“I love your furniture, Mr. Osborn.”

“You're Black Light. I saw you on the security footage fighting Spider-Man last night.”

You smiled, showing your teeth.

He looked at you, walking past you into the kitchen on your left. “What are you doing here? I should be calling the police, considering you stole from my company's labs.”

“Do your security cameras have audio?”

Harry paused leaned forward casually, two hands on the edge of the kitchen island, facing you, the fridge behind him. “Yes.”

“So can you guess why I'm here, Mr. Osborn?”

“I'm guessing you're not the biggest fan of Spider-Man, either.”

“You'd be guessing correctly.”

He paused, looking at you. “I've had a long day and I need a drink. Whiskey?”

You nodded once, shrugging a shoulder.

He turned around, getting out two short cups from a cabinet and retrieving a bottle of what looked like very expensive whiskey. You approached the kitchen island, standing on the other side from Harry, as he poured two glasses, hand shaking ever so slightly. He pushed one glass towards you, and you lifted it in a slight toasting gesture before taking a small drink. He downed the whole glass in one go, and went to refill his immediately.

“I know you want to take Spider-Man down, Mr. Osborn. I'd like to help with that.”

Harry put the bottle down onto the counter with a heavy hand, and looked up at you. “How do you intend to do that?”

“I'd venture a guess I run into him a bit more than you do. And I'm sure you're too busy with running your newly acquired company to have time running around at night looking for a man in a costume.”

“You want to make a deal?”

“Yes. No strings attached, just two people helping each other to put away an obnoxious vigilante.”

Harry scoffed, walking around the kitchen island into the living room to stand at the broad windows, looking out over the city. “You mean to tell me you don't want any money? A part in the company? None of that?”

“I wouldn't say no to money, Mr. Osborn, but I don't exactly need any. I make good money doing what I do.”

You followed him, standing behind him in the center of the room. You could see your reflection in the windows, and once again you were surprised with just how tough and mysterious you looked. The only part of yourself you recognized was your mouth, the only part of your body not covered with shiny black fabric.

You could also see Harry's face reflected in the windows. He was holding the glass of whiskey in one hand, his other in the pocket of his suit pants. His tie was loosened, the first button of his shirt undone, his hair just slightly ruffled. His face serious, brows furrowed over eyes glaring at the city lights. You felt a pang of sympathy for the young man in front of you; clearly the pressure of running a company at such a young age while also grieving was beginning to get to him. The sympathy didn't show in your reflection.

“I don't want to just put Spider-Man away. I want him to suffer.”

“I can make that happen.”

“I want him to feel pain. I want him to _lose_. I want him to hurt to his core.”

“I take it you don't just mean physically.”

“Can you do that?”

“I'm sure I can figure something out. I've been told I'm very creative.”

“Good.”

Silence for a few moments.

“I want him dead.”

“Dead.” You replied, toneless.

“Dead,” he repeated, turning around to look at you. “Is that a problem?”

“...No.”

“I don't care how it's done, as long as he suffers first. I want him in pain, I want him unmasked, and then I want him dead, and I want to see him.”

“After?”

“During, after, whatever.”

You stood, silent, thinking about what this deal would mean. You would have to kill someone, you knew A.I.M. wouldn't disapprove, that they would in fact encourage you kill Spider-Man, just as they'd encouraged you to kill Daredevil if you had an opening. Were you willing to kill for an organization you didn't know much about outside of how they personally affected you?

Harry watched you as you put your own morality under a microscope.

“If I'm going to kill someone for you, how are you going to help me get this done?”

“You know the circumstances of my father's death.”

“I know that he was the Green Goblin and that Spider-Man killed him.”

“I have my father's Goblin equipment. I can help.”

“I don't want an amateur in the way.”

“Amateur? What does that make you? You've barely been on the scene for a week.”

“I've had practice with this my whole life.”

Harry was glaring at you.

“I'm not useless. I might not have practice with fighting heroes but I know how to handle myself.”

“So we team up and kill Spider-Man.”

“That's the idea. We fight him, we make him suffer, and then we kill him.”

“Whoever gets the opportunity first will do it?”

He nodded and then paused. “Actually, no. I want to be the one to kill him. You can catch him, take him down, make him suffer, anything you want. Just make him hurt, show me his face, and then let me kill him.”

“It might be a long time before we get an opportunity.”

“I don't care, as long as it happens.”

“You'd better start practicing being the Goblin, then. It'll go better if you know what you're doing.”

“I want Spider-Man dead to avenge my father, but I don't want to become a villain like he did just to take him down.”

“Then it won't get done. You don't have to become your father, but you do have to become the Green Goblin.”

Harry just stared at you. After a long minute he downed his drink, not breaking eye contact with your mask. “Fine. If that's what I have to do then I'll do it.”

“Then we have a deal,” you stuck out your hand to shake. He looked at it, then at your mask, and shook.

“Looks like we do.”

“I'll be in touch, Mr. Osborn.” You let go of Harry's hand and made your way outside to the balcony, taking out your grappling hook gun and jumping off the edge.

* * *

 

The next morning you woke up around ten. It was raining again, the water falling in sheets against your bedroom window. You yawned, snuggling deeper into your pillow as if looking for a few more minutes of sleep inside the fabric.

On your bedside table your phone went off, and hmm-ing softly you reached for it, to see that Peter was calling. You rubbed your face and cleared your throat before answering, hoping you didn't sound like you'd just woken up.

“Hey, Peter. What's up?”

“Hey Y/n. Did I wake you up?”

You yawned again. “Nah, I woke up a little bit ago.”

“Oh okay, cool,” a pause. “Do you remember my friend Harry I was telling you about?”

You were slapped out of any remaining sleepiness and swallowed. “Harry Osborn, yeah?”

“Yeah. So turns out he was invited to the Stark thing tonight too, but this girl he was sort of dating is out of the country right now? I dunno. I know it's probably weird since we've only been dating for a week or two or whatever, but would you mind if he came with us? I figured since I met your friend Stacy already—sort of—it would only be fair for you to meet Harry-”

You laughed. “Yeah, that sounds fun. He's probably having a rough time right now because of what happened to his dad.”

Peter sounded relieved. “Good! I think you two will get along great, he's a smart guy. We've been friends forever, so you were bound to meet him sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah. I'm excited about tonight, I've never been to something like this. And I can't wait to see you in your suit, that'll be interesting,” you teased.

“Hey! I clean up pretty nicely, I'll have you know. Get ready to be swept off your feet.”

“I can't wait,” you smiled, rolling back into your pillow. “What time are we going again?”

“It's at seven-thirty, so I'll probably be there to pick you up at six-forty-five-ish. I don't know if Harry is meeting us there or if he wants to ride there with us yet.”

“That's fine. I should go, but I'll see you tonight?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Okay. Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Peter.” You were sure he could hear the smile in your voice too, before you hung up. Dropping your phone onto your comforter, you stretched and started thinking about Peter, and the night before when you'd seen all of the pictures of him and his friends on Harry's fridge. And specifically the blonde girl in the photos who's memorial pamphlet had been pinned to the the shiny steel surface of the doors. You sighed.

“Fuck.”

Your day went by quickly, filled with chores and homework while Stacy was gone. By the time six-thirty had come around, you were already dressed and ready to go, a long black coat over your black dress, black suede heels on your feet, crimson red scarf around your neck. Stacy had insisted you borrow a clutch bag to “make you look classier,” and now it rested on your bathroom counter as you touched on the last piece of your makeup, a classic red lipstick Stacy demanded you wear.

Your phone went off in the clutch, and you put the cap back on the lipstick, putting it into the bag and trading it for your phone. Peter was calling.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I'm outside with Harry. Are you ready to go?”

“I'll be right down, just a second.”

“Okay. See you in a second, then.”

You hung up, tossed your phone into the clutch, made sure you had your keys, and went outside to find Peter waiting on the steps, a limousine parked on the curb. He turned around when he heard the front door closing, and his face split into a broad grin.

“You look like a movie star,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes resting on your face. He almost looked hypnotized.

You blushed lightly and smiled back at him. “You clean up pretty nicely too.” You went down the steps and he kissed your cheek.

“Hey, lovebirds, we're gonna be late.”

You and Peter both laughed as you pulled away, you slipping your hand into his. You both looked towards the limo, where one of the windows was rolled down to reveal the one and only Harry Osborn.

Peter pulled you to the limo, opening the door so you could slip in. The inside of the limousine was one long bench running around the side and curving around the front and back, with a space for what looked like a small bar. The seats were black, and the lights inside were a soft amber.

“Oh, this is pretty nice,” you said, settling into the curve of the seat between Peter and Harry.

“I had to convince Peter that a limo with a lava lamp ceiling would be tacky,” Harry joked.

“Y/n, this is Harry. Harry, this is Y/n.”

Harry smiled at you. “It's nice to finally meet you, Y/n. I've been hearing lots about you.”

You smiled back at him. “Oh have you? All good things, I hope,” you looked at Peter.

“I only have good things to say,” Peter smiled at you, squeezing your hand.

You grinned.

“Who wants a drink?”

Peter laughed. “Harry, it's not even seven yet!”

Harry was already pouring out three drinks. “Oh, come on, Peter, don't be a square.”

“Okay, fine, but only one right now. I'm technically working tonight.”

“Fine, but we're getting you destroyed at the after party,” Harry said, passing you and then Peter a pair of drinks. You noted that he looked far more put together than he had the night before, his hair neat and combed out of his face, his shirt buttoned all of the way and his tie tight against the collar.

“Oh, drunk Peter? I'd like to see that,” you said, looking away from Harry and towards Peter.

“I'll toast to that. It's been too long since you've let loose, man,” Harry said, leaning forward to clink his glass against yours.

Peter chuckled. “Okay, okay. Just promise me you two won't get drunk without me.”

“Promise,” you said, clinking your glass against Peter's, and you all took a drink.

It turned out Harry was a lot of fun when he wasn't talking about his dead father and plotting to torture and murder somebody. When Peter had to run off and start taking pictures immediately upon stepping out of the limo and arriving at the hotel's extravagant ballroom, Harry suggested the two of you do a lap around the room and see how many people looked like they had a stick up their ass. You'd laughed and agreed, trailing along with him, the both of you with a drink in hand. Harry introduced you to the people you stopped to talk to as “Y/n, my friend Peter's very talented and intelligent engineer girlfriend.” After a few rounds of small talk, you and Harry stopped off to the side of the room to watch Peter taking photos and making conversation with various guests.

“Did Peter say I was his girlfriend?” You asked, looking at Harry over the edge of your glass as you took a sip.

He looked at you, pausing, as if picking his words.

“He said he'd like for you to be, but he knows it's soon and you haven't been going out long and he doesn't want to rush it.”

You smiled. “Hm.”

“Don't tell him I said anything. He doesn't date a lot, he's married to school I think.”

“I understand that. I don't date usually, I've been focusing on my career too.”

“Peter said you already have a job at some science company, but didn't say where.”

“A.I.M. Industries, they said they want me to start working with them as soon as I finish school.” A half lie.

“Ah, I know them. Good company.”

You nodded, feeling Harry's eyes on your face out of the corner of your eye.

Peter appeared in front of the two of you. “You guys having fun?”

You smiled at him. “Yeah, Harry's been introducing me to people. We've been trying to figure out who has sticks up their asses and who doesn't.”

Peter laughed, Harry smiled as he sipped his drink.

“Can I get a picture of the two of you?”

You and Harry looked at each other and then both nodded at Peter, who lifted up his camera.

“Smile!”

You smiled and the camera flashed. Peter stole a quick kiss from you, and Harry took another sip of his drink.

“Here comes Tony,” Harry said, lowering his drink.

You followed his gaze, and there indeed was Tony Stark himself, walking towards the three of you. “Oh my god,” you said under your breath.

“Harry Osborn, the one and only! Are you and your friends coming to the after party at the tower?”

“Oh, absolutely Tony, wouldn't miss it for the world,” Harry said with a bright smile, shaking Tony's hand firmly. Tony shook Peter's too, before turning to you.

“And who might this gorgeous young lady be? Harry, don't tell me you've started dating models,” he teased.

“Actually, this is my friend Peter's date. Tony, meet Y/n Y/l/n. She's graduating this year to become an engineer much like yourself.”

“Ah, the friend you've told me about with all the ideas, I'm guessing. I'd love to talk shop with you sometime, miss Y/l/n, it's not often I get to meet someone almost as much of a genius as myself.”

“Genius, huh? Where'd you hear that?”

“Oh, just around,” he said vaguely, eyes sparkling, mischievous smile spreading above his trademark goatee. “Word travels fast when a good brain is about to come onto the market.”

“Y/n already has a job offer, actually,” Harry said.

Tony looked at you again. “A very good brain, apparently. Where at?”

“A.I.M. Industries, actually,” you said. “We already have a deal if I start working for them right after I graduate.”

Something very slight changed about Tony Stark's eyes. You weren't sure if you were imagining it. He was an Avenger after all, did he know something about A.I.M.?

“I guess I'd better talk to you sooner rather than later before they steal you off the job market completely,” he said. “Good ol' Peter here's been meeting with me for a while about working for me. There just might be room for you, too.”

You glanced at Peter, before looking back at Tony. “I'd love to talk about it sometime, Mr. Stark.”

“Please, a girl as smart and pretty as you can call me Tony,” he winked. “Alright kids, I should go do another round, see how much more money I can milk out of these old farts.”

“Mind if I take a picture before you run off?” Peter asked.

“Get one with me and your friends here,” Tony said, stepping in between you and Harry, putting his arm around both of you. Harry put an arm around the back of Tony, hand landing on his shoulder next to your head. The flash of the camera went off, and Tony let go of both of you. “See you at the after party!” And off he disappeared into the large room.

Peter stayed to chat for another few minutes before he had to go off and get more pictures.

And then it was ten, the guests were leaving, and servers were going around inviting specific people to the after party.

“Alright guys, I'm off the clock,” Peter reappeared, camera in hand. “I'm ready to get hammered.”

“Careful what you say, what if Thor's there?” Harry joked.

The three of you piled into the limo, taking you straight to the tower. Inside the front door a man checked your names on some kind of holographic Stark tech tablet, before sending you to an elevator that took you to the top floor.

The elevator opened into a large open space. In the center of the room was a group of couches around a part of the floor that was slightly sunken in, at the center of which was a large coffee table. To the right was a large bar, to the left some stairs and a lot of glass through which you could see the large terrace. Some of the doors were open, outside were more couches and a fire pit. You had a feeling those weren't normally there. Straight ahead past the couches and the coffee table were panes of glass from floor to ceiling through which you could see the sparkling cityscape.

“Oh, wow,” you said.

The music was loud, upbeat, intense. There was already quite the crowd, only some of which you recognized from the party. You had a feeling most of the people here hadn't been at the fundraiser.

Harry led the way to the bar, and the three of you ordered your drinks.

It wasn't difficult to get Peter drunk. And it wasn't difficult to convince him that you were drunk as well. Peter and Harry were drinking and playing ping-pong—what Tony Stark was doing with a ping-pong table at this party was beyond you.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” you announced, yelling over the thumping music, before slipping away from the party. It was time to go snooping.

You adjusted your dress as you sneaked down countless flights of stairs. You would have taken the elevator, but someone would have seen you entering it, and you didn't want to draw any attention.

You glanced at your phone, noting the time, before pushing through the doorway out of the stairwell and onto the floor that contained one of Tony Stark's many workshops. The whole floor was one open white space, machinery and gadgets and wires scattered about the place, unorganized with seemingly no rhyme or reason. On top of a desk there was one of his high-tech computers, one of the clear glass touch screens that looked as if it was from a sci-fi movie or belonged to a secret agency. You made a bee-line for it, after checking around for security cameras and finding none. Apparently Tony Stark didn't want anyone peeping in on his work.

You made several attempts to break into his computer files with no success. You were smart but apparently not quite as smart as him. Turning away from the screen, you began surveying the mess of half constructed tech throughout the lab, when something caught your eye. Small and glowing, you tucked it into your clutch, making a note of the larger pieces you would come back for later.

You slipped out of the room, locking the sliding door behind you, and you made your way back to the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asdfghjkl so what do you guys think?


	9. In Which You Beat Up a Politician and Destroy a Building

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaahhhhh you guys are too nice! Thank you so so so much to everyone who's left kudos or commented so far you make the #struggle worth it
> 
> Hi guys I'm so sorry for the slow af updates, I've had a looooooot of stuff going on, and I probably won't be updating much (if at all) during November because of NaNoWriMo and freaking out about election results, so I hope this chapter tides you over until then.
> 
> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter tbqh so if you could tell me if you liked it or not that would be super duper. There is some making out n stuff here but I'm not planning on writing anything much more explicit than that, just a heads up

You fidgeted in the elevator slightly, the polished steel walls showing your slightly blurred reflection in nearly every surface. You tidied yourself up, touching up your lipstick, tucking the small tube back into your clutch, carefully hiding the contents from the security camera in the corner. There was a soft _ding_ as the elevator stopped and the doors opened with a quiet whoosh, and you were met with the loud music of the after party.

You looked around, finding Harry on a couch talking to a pair of models, and Peter at the bar, looking around. He saw you as you re-entered the party, and his face lit up.

“Y/n, I was looking for you,” he was grinning as he approached you.

“I need another drink, there's nothing quite like a trip to the bathroom to sober you up,” you smiled at him, clutch gripped tightly in your hand.

“Sure, lemme grab one for you.”

You followed Peter back to the bar, where he ordered you a drink of your choice.

The rest of the night was a blur after your third drink, but at a certain point Harry and Peter and yourself had all agreed it was time to leave. You leaned your head on Peter's shoulder the whole way to your apartment while he played with your hand in his. You were still a bit drunk, body a peculiar mix of heaviness and weightlessness. You felt the limo slow and stop.

“Hey, Y/n,” Peter was whispering rubbing your arm gently. “We're at your place, do you want me to walk you in?”

You nodded, scooting clumsily out of the car, waving goodnight to Harry.

Peter walked you up to the front door of your building, as you unlocked the door, you turned to him. “D'you wanna stay over? Just t' sleep,” you added, looking at him.

Peter paused, clearly also still as drunk as yourself, and nodded. “Yeah, lemme tell Harry,” he said, jogging down the steps and to the limo. He tapped on a window and it rolled down to reveal Harry's face. They exchanged a few words before Harry grinned, and the limo drove off. Peter jogged back, slipped a hand into yours and then followed you inside and up to your apartment, making a few jokes about specific party guests you'd seen earlier that night. Peter was still holding your hand, and you were staring at him with a wide smile when the elevator dropped you off at your floor, and you both quietly walked to your apartment.

You let him in, giggling, while he kept making jokes. “Oh my god, Peter, shh! I don't know if Stacy's asleep!”

He grinned, leaning down behind you and nipped your ear suddenly, a hand on your waist as you kicked off your heels, one of your hands on the wall for support.

Stumbling, and now a good deal shorter, you turned your head back to try and look at him. His mouth slipped down further, brushing soft kisses on your neck. You made a small involuntary sound, and felt him smile against your neck as he stepped closer behind you, both hands on your waist and chest touching your back.

You leaned back against him, putting a hand over one of his, and slipping it into yours, you led him to your room. He stepped inside and you closed the door, leaning back against it. He turned back and looked at you as you raised your eyebrow.

“Well?”

He approached slowly, cupping your face in his hands, and kissed you softly. You put your arms around his shoulders, both of you clumsy but gentle. A hand started to creep down from your face, over the side of your neck, and his thumb brushed over your pulse. He pulled his hand away from you before you felt an arm wrap around your waist, and he pulled your body against his. He hummed when you pulled his hair gently and stepped forward, pushing him towards your bed. He took the hint and walked backwards until the back of his legs hit the mattress, and sat with a thump and let go of you and looked up at you to see what you would do.

You climbed up, surprisingly graceful considering how many drinks were in you, and straddled his lap, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to play with his hair, both of his hands still on the mattress by his sides.

You stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment. His hands found themselves on your knees, then sliding up your thighs under the hem of your dress, stopping several inches away from your hips, eyes still locked on yours the entire time. He finally looked away as he leaned in to kiss your neck again, and you closed your eyes. His hands stayed where they were, gently gripping.

You started to loosen his tie, clumsily undoing the first few buttons of his shirt, and turned your attention to his own neck. His hands slid farther up your thighs and rested on your hips, sighing. You popped open a few more buttons on his shirt, and pushed him back onto your bed, his mouth in a surprised “o” as he looked back up at you. You shifted your hips slightly, and reached back to unzip your dress, before realizing there was no way you could do it on your own.

“My zipper,” you whispered, and he immediately sat back up, taking both hands off your hips to reach behind you and carefully unzip the back of your dress. You pulled your arms free of the sleeves and the top fell forward, revealing your bare skin and thankfully nice bra. Peter immediately started kissing down your collar bone, and down your chest, scooting back so you both weren't perched on the edge of your bed. You pushed him down again, and he pulled you with him, rolling you onto your back, one arm holding himself up off of you while the other slipped up your thigh again.

You stayed like this for a while, just kissing and gently touching the others' arms, legs, chests, necks, etc. Still mostly clothed, Peter eventually shifted off of you, laying down beside you on the pillow, and pulled you into his chest. You wrapped an arm around him as well, smiling softly.

“Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispered back, kissing your cheek under your eye, and you both fell asleep to the sound of quiet breathing.

The next morning you woke just before ten. It was cloudy out again, and you shivered, cold, having never made it under your blankets and your dress still half on and half off. You looked at the other side of the bed, where Peter was sleeping on his back, mouth slightly open, shirt slightly unbuttoned, very ruffled, and his tie missing. Grinning, you scooted closer to him, just barely touching his side, and took a deep breath. You both smelled vaguely of alcohol, but it was a background smell to the smell of your room and the smell of Peter, something that was becoming more and more comforting to you every time you were with him.

You heard a yawn and felt him shift next to you. You cracked an eye open as a hand brushed over your shoulder.

“G'morning,” you tried to suppress your smile.

He smiled back. “Good morning. Are you cold?”

You nodded.

“C'mere,” he said softly, and wrapped an arm around you pulling you close and rubbing his hand across your bare back to warm you up. “I don't know how you managed to fall asleep with your clothes like that, it can't have been comfortable.”

“Drunk,” you replied. “Drunk makes everything comfortable.”

“Did you want to change?”

“Mm. Yeah, but I don't wanna get up.”

Peter laughed. “Change. I'll be right here.”

You groaned unhappily, rolling away from Peter and getting pajamas out of your dresser. A tank top and some pajama pants. Cozy, but still cute. Peter wasn't ready to see your ratty tie-dyed pajama t-shirt yet. You found your largest shirt—a plain gray shirt you'd kept from a one night stand who was just a little bigger than Peter as payment for ripping your tights that night—and tossed it over to him after changing. It hit his back, he'd looked away while you changed.

“Here, if you're gonna stay for a while you might as well be comfortable too.” You went back over and crawled under your blanket. “If you wanna take off your dress-pants that's okay too.”

Peter smiled at you gratefully, and changed his shirt with his back to you. You weren't as polite, and found yourself staring—he had two rather large scars running diagonally across his back from his right shoulder-blade towards his left hip, ending near his elbow. After putting on the shirt, he pulled off his pants and crawled under the blankets with you.

“What are those scars from?” You asked, whispering.

“On my back?” He paused. “Accident.”

You didn't press the issue. It started to rain, the two of you staying in bed for another hour and a half before Peter had to go home to get ready for work, dressing back into his suit from the night before, and kissing you goodbye at your front door.

As soon as you closed the door behind him, gently shutting it with a soft click, Stacy let out a whistle.

“He cleans up pretty nice, don't he?”

You turned around, embarrassed and flushed. “How long have you been out here?”

“I just came out as you were mackin' on each other in the doorway,” Stacy was seated on the couch, looking at you over the back of it with a sly pleased smile. “So he stayed the night?”

“Yeah. We just slept though,” you added quickly.

She responded with a raised perfect eyebrow. “ _Just_ slept?”

“We made out a little bit. But we were drunk so we just went to sleep,” you squirmed under her questioning gaze.

“Well I like him. He seems like a good guy, and I have very accurate first impressions of people.”

You laughed. “I know you do, Stace.”

“Except for you, actually. When I first met you, I thought 'this girl is smart, but it's gonna get her into trouble. She's going to be trouble.'” She laughed. “I was pretty wrong about the trouble part, unless you count fighting pervs at bars as trouble.”

You smiled at her, and turned away towards the stove to make some hot water for some hot chocolate.

* * *

 

The rest of your weekend was spent doing homework and rushing in and out of Noble's lab, doing experiments on the small glowing item you'd stolen from Stark and helping her finish work on The Heart—which you still didn't know the purpose of. You didn't see Peter until just before your class together at the beginning of next week, when you both went to get a late breakfast before class. The week was uneventful, just back to the usual schedule of classes, homework, Noble's Super Duper Secret Laboratory of Doom, and of course, Peter, who you found yourself seeing during every second of free time you both had.

Towards the end of the week, you were entering Noble's lab, a new bounce in your step. Noble pointed it out.

“Whoever you're seeing must be good for you. I've never seen you so bright and cheerful before, you're almost a new person!”

You grinned, turning around from closing the door, and stopped. “Where did it go?”

The room was empty, The Heart was gone, the only sign it had been there was a hook hanging from the ceiling where it had been for the last few months.

“Oh, my project? I finished! A.I.M. came to collect and ship it off to it's new home yesterday.”

“Where?” You asked as you took off your coat and scarf and hung up your bag, slipping on some safety gloves and grabbing a pair of goggles.

“I can't tell you that, unfortunately.” A pause. “No need for the safety gear today Y/l/n, I'm heading to the main offices to visit Mr. Adams. I would have called you, but it was a last minute thing. You've got the day off.”

“Oh,” you paused awkwardly and retraced your steps in reverse, taking off the safety gloves and goggles and slipping on your coat and donning your scarf. “Alright then. Is everything okay?”

“I just have to go there to pick up the details for my next project. Our lab hours may change, I'll email you with any new details.”

With that she ushered you out, and the second you neared the main public subway system, your phone began to ring. Still recovering from the whiplash of your suddenly changed schedule, you flipped through your head for anything you could do while you were out, when your phone buzzed.

It was A.I.M. with an errand. Apparently a politician needed a little talking to.

No problem.

An hour later you found yourself slipping in through the top floor window of an office in an older brick building. They'd given you an address and a short set of instructions. What was so important that they needed you to go handle it?

 _I can damage his stuff but not him,_ you reminded yourself as you slid the window shut behind you and lowered the blinds. You turned around to scan over the office, eyes picking up small details. One picture frame with a photo of his wife beside the sleek monitor on his obviously expensive wooden desk, a filing cabinet, a shelf of thick books, a standing coat rack by the door, two wooden chairs facing the desk, and on one wall a painting of the Empire State Building. Everything obviously expensive.

You did a quick loop around the room, taking quick peeks into drawers and the two extra doors. One led to a private bathroom and the other was a small coat closet. The books were dry boring titles one would expect to see in an office of this type. The whole room was entirely unoriginal.

You heard footsteps approaching the office, and you took your spot on the far side of the room beside the window, standing with your arms crossed. The doorknob jiggled, turning, and the door swung open, a tall man in a clean dark suit entering. Was this guy actually whistling? He closed the door behind himself, and while his back was to you you cleared your throat.

“Hello, Mr. Smith.”

He spun around, pale blue eyes wide, pale skin drained of all color. He looked like a sickly skinned potato.

“Have a seat, Mr. Smith,” you said, sauntering around to the back of his desk and sitting down in his chair. All a deliberate move to unsettle him, make him feel less, show him you were the one in charge right now. “Please,” you insisted, gesturing at the two leather chairs he had for office visitors, face pointed towards him the entire time to show you were watching him since he couldn't see your eyes.

He swallowed visibly and audibly, nervously taking a seat. “What do you want?”

“Do you know who I am Mr. Smith?”

“I've seen you on the news. You're new.”

“New _here,_ maybe,” you said, looking away from him and towards the framed photo of his wife. You brushed a finger over the top of the picture frame as if cleaning off dust. “You know what they call me?”

“Black Light.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“You glow?”

You looked at him again. “That's part of it.” You stood, walking around the desk to lean back against it in front of him, clearly intruding on his personal bubble. You made as if you were examining your glove, adjusting it, even though it was sitting perfectly on your hand already. Your hand began to glow indigo violet, a soft hum filling the air. He was staring at the glow, hypnotized. “Did you know they have electric bug zappers with black-light lightbulbs to attract bugs?”

Without warning you struck out, smashing the arm of his chair into splinters. He flinched, nearly falling out of the chair in his effort to get away from you.

 _Scare him, and remind him of the deal he made,_ you reminded yourself of your goal here before you got too carried away. You would be lying if you said you weren't enjoying this a little. You let the light fade from your hand, the humming in the air fading away with it.

“There a lot of people in this world that look like bugs to me, Mr. Smith. Men who back out of business arrangements included, and I have no qualms zapping them.”

Mr. Smith was shaking. “You wouldn't-”

Both of your arms were glowing again. You lunged forward, grabbing his chair. He flinched back, and you lifted the side of the chair, throwing him out of it sideways onto the ground. You threw the chair against the wall by the window where the wood shattered and then rained down with soft clunks like a large windchime onto the carpet.

“I would.”

He was shaking on the floor, wide eyed and fearful.

“Keep your promises, Mr. Smith, or next time that chair will be you, and your wife will never know what happened.”

He nodded frantically. “I understand, please-”

“If I have to visit you again I won't be happy.”

And with that, you exited back out through the windows. Since you were out and about and in costume, you might as well go pay a visit to Harry.

It took nearly half an hour of rooftop jumping and swinging on your grappling hook to get to Harry's penthouse apartment. The lights were on—he was home this time. You let yourself in, venturing into the kitchen for a drink of water and whatever food he had available. If you were going to help him kill a guy, it was only fair you got some free food out of it.

You heard him enter the living room behind you.

“I wasn't sure when you were coming back.”

“Well, I'd give you my number but I don't exactly have a work phone and I don't like business partners calling me on my personal phone. Surprise visits will have to do.” You glanced back at him. “You have quite a bit of alcohol in here, Harry. Throwing a party soon?”

He didn't answer, just watching you.

You sighed and closed the fridge.

“Why are you here?”

“To help you kill Spider-Man, remember? We won't make an effective team if we don't get to know each others' fighting style. Start stretching and get out your gear, we're going to commit a robbery. Green Goblin and Black Light, the new fearsome duo.”

“Where are we going to-?”

“Not sure yet. But it has to be villainous or it won't get our leggy friend's attention. Any businesses you want to screw over?”

Harry paused. “I can think of one.”

“Let's go destroy their shit, then.”

It took Harry a while to get into the suit for the Goblin. It fit him, surprisingly well in fact. The plate over his abdomen had two large jagged holes—you realized with a lurch of your stomach that this was the suit his father had died in. The mask was different too, while the one Norman Osborn had worn was grotesque and twisted like a Halloween mask, this one was sleek, clearly an altered motorcycle helmet. You could tell from looking at it that it had some serious tech hidden inside. The top swept back into two pointed ears, arching straight back from the head. The visor was up, the bottom of the glass—shatter proof, you hoped—had white jagged teeth painted onto it, and the thick part across the chin had matching teeth, making it look as if his face was being swallowed by a mouth. Out on the terrace he mounted the hover glider.

“You know how to fly that thing, right?”

“Yeah. I actually helped develop it, believe it or not,” he looked at you, sliding the visor down over his face locking it shut with a snap, the painted teeth matching up to create a jack-o-lantern style snarl. “Let's go.” His voice came out distorted, crackly and high. Nobody would recognize him unless the voice distorter broke or he became unmasked. His own version of your false accent. Smart.

“Mind if I hang onto you?” You asked, lifting your grappling hook to show what you meant.

“Go for it. It's pretty sturdy.” And with that, the glider roared to life, lighting up with tiny orange lights all around the edge, and he took off.

You shot the grappling hook out, latching onto him, and with it attached to your belt you were carried along with him, hanging below like a spy from a rescue helicopter in an action movie. You whooped with excitement, and heard Harry's distorted goblin laugh above you swallowed by the wind and the rain that began to fall.

You never thought that mindlessly destroying things would be this much pure _fun_. You could tell from Harry's high cackling he was enjoying this as much as you, maybe even more. Legs and arms glowing, you smashed through every surface without a care, knocking down walls and smashing computers and metal doors. Harry was flying around on his glider, dropping pumpkin shaped mini grenades into various lab rooms and zooming through and out of the resulting explosions, cackling drowned out by the small booms.

You heard creaking, and felt the floor shift, and instantly you were snapped out of your destructive glee. How long had you been smashing everything in your path? How many floors had you destroyed? You knew at least two, but it was a blur.

“GOBLIN!” You yelled, turning towards Harry. “GOBLIN! THE BUILDING IS COMING DOWN!”

He stopped, a pumpkin bomb exploding somewhere, and you held eye contact as the creaking grew louder and the floor started to tilt.

The glider zoomed towards you, Harry grabbing you and sweeping you up in a tight not-quite-hug as he soared out of the side of the building, glass and plaster raining down around you. He zoomed up into the sky, out of the path of the falling building, and stopped so the two of you could marvel at your work. Sirens were going off, the building was on fire, falling in on itself, the top quarter falling sideways into the street.

You heard Harry laughing, still holding you, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck to keep yourself secure.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, releasing the nervous energy you'd held while fleeing the building.

“Holy shit is right,” he couldn't stop laughing as he flew away from the building. “That was fantastic!”

“Well I'm glad you enjoyed the work, Goblin,” you yelled over the wind.

A spotlight landed on the two of you from below, and another joined from above.

It was the news.

“Well, if the building didn't get Spidey's attention, seeing us on the news certainly will,” you grinned. “Let's get out of here.”

Harry zoomed away, back to his home, taking the long way and leaving the news crews in the figurative dust.


	10. You're in Deep Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave up on NaNoWriMo almost immediately lmao but this month has been a shit show from the very beginning so I've been writing like... not at all.
> 
> Anyway, here's another chapter, but it's really... It's shorter than the others. Hope you like it anyway

The next day the two of you were splattered across every news outlet in town, every newspaper had a photo of the crumbling building on the front, often accompanied by a smaller, blurry photo of the Green Goblin carrying Black Light on his glider, dramatically illuminated by the spotlights of the news crews. You scanned the various headlines displayed on the newsstand, holding an umbrella over your head to protect from the heavy downpour while you waited for Peter. It hadn't stopped raining once since last night.

** GREEN GOBLIN RESURRECTED **

** THE NEW BONNIE AND CLYDE? BLACK LIGHT AND THE GOBLIN **

** THE NEW VILLAINS IN TOWN **

** BLACK LIGHT BRINGS BACK GOBLIN, BRINGS DOWN BUILDING **

You were nervous from having this much attention on you, but it was to be expected from destroying a building and being seen with a reincarnation of one of the city's most feared and unpredictable villains—that everyone thought had died. Which was true, but the general public didn't know the details.

Peter appeared by your side, taking your hand in his. “Hey.”

“Peter!” You leaned up and kissed his cheek.

He was staring at the papers on the newsstand now too, your usually playful or inquisitive Peter gone, replaced by unusually serious Peter, a Peter you hadn't yet seen.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, 'm fine. Just worried about Harry.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

The two of you began walking to the restaurant you'd agreed upon for dinner.

He shook his head. “I need to figure it out first before I talk about it.”

“I can help you figure it out, Pete...” You were staring at him, hoping he would open up. He looked at you, eyes flicking between both of yours, and he sighed.

“I think he's getting involved with some bad stuff.”

“What, like... Drugs?”

Peter shook his head. “No, I... He's had some drug problems before. He's recovering right now but... This is different. He...” Peter huffed out a breath and looked up towards the sky. “I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just have fun, okay? I've been wanting to see you,” he said, smiling at you.

You could see he was upset and worried still, and squeezed his hand in an attempt to reassure him. “How about, after dinner, we go to the arcade and spend a bunch of money on games and win cheap shitty prizes for each other?”

Peter smiled gratefully. “That sounds perfect.”

It wasn't until sometime after dinner while you were in the arcade together that Peter started to noticeably cheer up, bouncing from game to game. Ski-ball, Whack-a-Mole, racing games, pinball, even a vintage Pac-Man machine. You were a bit surprised at how well Peter was doing with the more physical games, like Ski-ball and Whack-a-Mole, where he earned perfect scores. He had never struck you as the most coordinated type. Of course, you failed miserably on Whack-A-Mole, underachieving out of fear of destroying the machine if you hit it too hard, and met his perfect score at Ski-Ball with the same, ribbons of tickets flying out of the slot into a pile at your feet.

At the end of the night when you both went to claim a prize as a gift for the other person, Peter chose the largest most obnoxious stuffed animal, and a small bright yellow rubber robot keychain with long stretchy arms to clip onto things.

“This robot will bring you great luck in all of your ventures. Keep it close and on your person at all times,” he said with a mock-serious voice as he handed the robot to you as if he was giving you a key to the nations nukes. “And this is just because it's obnoxious and huge,” he split into a grin as he handed over the large stuffed sheep.

You chose for him a small black light lava lamp and a coffee mug with the poop emoji on it.

“For decoration and because you're a piece of shit,” you teased as you picked them out. He laughed, smiling as the tired man behind the counter handed them over.

You took a taxi home, the giant stuffed sheep taking up a whole seat in the back.

“Do you wanna stay over again?” you asked when the cab arrived at your home.

“I have a big test tomorrow, I should spend the rest of the night studying and get some sleep. Next time?”

You nodded. “Next time,” and kissed him goodnight.

You lumbered inside with your prize for Peter, dragging it into the elevator and down the hall all the way to your apartment, before putting it on the floor beside your desk in your room. You put your phone on your desk and flopped face first onto your bed, breathing in the fresh clean smell of your comforter and the comforting smell of your room.

In your head the events of the previous night played over, the smashing, the fire, the small explosions, Harry's high cackling as the Goblin.

 _It's the best way to take care of Spider-Man_ , you reasoned.

Your conscience whispered back. _He's Peter's friend, you're putting them both in danger._

_It's my job, it's important..._

You sighed loudly, rolling onto your back. The rain outside grew heavier, mirroring your troubled thoughts.

 _Peter's important, too,_ and then, _But I barely know him, and we aren't that serious..._

_Peter is still important._

“Ugh!” You sat up, kicking off your shoes and peeling off your clothes as you made your way over to your closet. You grabbed out the box that contained your super-suit and your experimental tech, changing quickly. Your phone buzzed as you clipped your hood to the mask in front of the mirror leaning against your wall. You took a deep breath, picking up your phone and opening the text.

It just said _Daredevil, downtown A.I.M. office_. Your phone buzzed again as a second message came in, just the word _NOW_.

You left out your window, the rain rolling off your suit as you swung away from home.

You arrived at the office building, entering through the rooftop, and found nobody. The front desk was empty, the security room unmanned. You scanned the security feed which showed hallways, labs, rooms of cubicles, all dark and empty. Then—a hallway filled with unconscious guards. The stairway, too, all on the lower floors, littered with unconscious security guards.

And there, on the lowest right hand monitor, Daredevil, fighting his way down a hallway to the basement door. You ran, rushing to the stairwell. You started to run down the steps, and stopped. He'd be through the door by the time you go there if you went this way. Elevator? Still too slow.

You looked over the edge of the railing—the stairs went down as far as you could see. You swallowed, closed your eyes a moment, and jumped over the railing, landing on the next flight down. Again, you jumped over the railing landing on the next flight, and again, and again, quickly—and quite loudly—making your way down.

You reached the ground floor, carefully stepping over the unconscious bodies into the lobby, and ran straight for the door to the basement through a number of offices. The door was wide open, a man sprawled across the entrance, arm bent in a bad direction. You stepped over him, boot making a soft thump on the floor on the other side. The stairs on the other side of the door were metal, and went down into complete darkness. Even with the night vision filter of the lenses in your mask, you could barely see the bottom. You stepped quietly down the stairway, hand lightly brushing the wall beside you to keep you oriented and steady. You could hear distant fighting, and as you reached the bottom of the steep staircase, you had to step over another body. After six feet, two more, another five feet and then another body. There was a sharp ninety degree turn where yet another man sat, unconscious, leaning against the corner.

You stepped over his legs as you heard the sound of someone dropping heavily to the floor, and heavy breathing. At the end of the hall was a door, and now in front of the door you could see the silhouette of Daredevil, hands running over the surface softly, examining.

You stopped, feet shoulder width apart, hands clenched into fists. They started to glow, humming, and Daredevil slowly turned around.

“I was hoping we wouldn't have to fight again,” he said, still as a statue, cautious.

“ _I_ was hoping you got the hint last time we met,” your voice was strong. You started walking towards him.

He braced for impact, and dodged your fist when you swung for his head. He swung at your stomach, you jumped back, spinning into a kick towards his knees. He grabbed your leg easily and yanked you off your feet, you fell back, the concrete floor knocking the air out of you. He went to hit you and knock your out while you were down but you rolled out of the way, and struggled back to your feet. In the corner of your eye you saw a limb swing towards you—it looked so slow, you could easily stop it, but...

* * *

 

You woke in a white room, mask off, hood down, gloves and shoes off. You were on a cold leather table, head on a support, aching.

“No concussion, so she'll-”

“She's awake.”

You sighed through your nose and whimpered at the pain in your chest, looking around.

“Ah-ah-ah, no, don't move, Y/n, you're quite hurt.”

Your eyes found the face of a strange woman in a white coat—a doctor, you guessed.

“Where...”

“You're back at the A.I.M. labs. You have some broken ribs and possibly a head injury, we're just waiting on...”

You zoned out. You'd lost to Daredevil. He'd won. You'd _let_ him win, you could have stopped him easily, but you... Why had you let him win?

_I didn't care, why didn't I care? I needed to win, I should have won, I wanted to win... I didn't care if I lost, but I wanted... I didn't want to win..._

“Good news, no concussion. No head injury at all, in fact, and your spine looks fine. You might be sore for a bit, but you should be fine long-term. Your bruised ribs should heal within three to six weeks, we recommend you not strain yourself...”

“I can't wait that long.”

“Sorry?”

“I can't wait that long for my ribs, that's too long.”

“That's how long it takes.”

You groaned, and winced again at the strong pain in your ribs. “I don't even remember getting hit in the ribs.”

You heard a door swung open.

“Ah, Miss Y/l/n, Miss Y/l/n! Is she alright, Doctor?”

“She'll be fine within a few weeks, just a pair of broken ribs.”

You closed your eyes, concentrating on breathing.

“...May I have a few moments alone, Doctor?”

“Yes, Mr. Adams.” You heard the door open and close again.

“Miss Y/l/n.”

You opened your eyes and saw Mr. Adams looking at you, eyes dark, face serious.

“I am very disappointed in your work tonight. This should not have happened.”

You swallowed, unable to look away or move much.

“Daredevil should not have beaten you. You are lucky he wasn't able to get through the door, otherwise you may be dead now.”

You took a sharp breath in, and let out a soft cry at your ribs.

“This cannot happen again. If you lose another fight against one of our heroes... There will be...” His hand reached out, touching lightly the spot on your ribs where the pain was coming from. “Consequences.” He pressed down, slow but firmly.

You cried out, your yelp short and quiet from lack of air. Tears welled up in your eyes and your screwed them shut, whole body tensing.

“Not just for yourself, but for your friends. Stacy, Peter... Do they know who you really are?”

You shook your head, eyes still screwed shut, taking shallow quick breaths through your nose.

“You understand?”

You nodded, his hand leaving your ribs.

“Good. Now tell me what you were doing with Green Goblin the other night.”

You couldn't do more than whisper. “Harry... Avenge his dad... Friends with Peter... Black Light convinced him...” you had to stop to breathe. “I convinced him to take up his mantle... Help him take down Spider-Man...”

“Does he know who you really are?”

You shook your head.

“Keep it that way.”

You nodded.

“We may be paying you, but I want to be very clear. We own Black Light. She is a tool for us. Since you are Black Light, we _own you._ You are our tool. You have a brilliant mind, Y/l/n. Your inventions are ingenious. But we don't need that part of your skills, we need you to be violent. We need you to be ready to kill for us, do you understand? A.I.M.'s mission grows more high stakes every day. We need our roadblocks cleared. We need you to clear them. Daredevil, Spider-Man, we may even need you to clear out the Avengers. We don't have many people with your kinds of skills among our ranks, unfortunately, so the burden falls to you... Understood?”

You nodded again, the words _we own you_ echoing in your head, bouncing off of the threats to Stacy, to Peter.

“As of now you are dropping out of school. You will train full-time with A.I.M., clearly you need it.”

You swallowed. “People will ask why I'm not in school-”

“It'll be taken care of. You can go back once you've been trained more sufficiently. Understood?”

“...I understand.” You were staring at the ceiling now.

“Very good. Rest up, Black Light. The doctor will be sending you home soon, I imagine.”

Mr. Adams left, and you continued to stare at the ceiling.

_What had you gotten yourself into?_


	11. Peter Has a Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally finished this five minutes before posting and didn't edit, please forgive any errors or just all general shittiness present in this chapter. Have no idea what the posting schedule is going to be like for a bit (turning 21 in a few days, family holiday stuff, new year stuff, etc...) so I hope you all like this one

“They're not technically _broken,_ only cracked-”

“Oh, my god! Y/n, that's still _horrible_.”

A.I.M. had returned you safely home shortly after your run-in with Mr. Adams. You told Stacy that you'd been mugged and the attack had broken your ribs—or, more accurately, had cracked your ribs. Stacy had gone into full on mom-mode, setting up a whole recovery station in the living room, bringing out your pillows from your bed to the couch so you could watch TV and be comfortable without climbing in and out of your tall bed for things like food or the bathroom.

“Have you called Peter? Does he know?”

Your stomach dropped, recalling the threats Mr. Adams had made against the two of them. There was no way in hell you'd ever be able to shake off Stacy to protect her, but you could at least keep an eye on her given that you lived together. But Peter...

“No, I don't want to freak him out-”

“Y/n,” she said, drawing your name out in a scolding tone like only she could. “You guys are kind of serious, you gotta let him know when stuff happens to you.”

You sighed, and winced at the dulled pain in your ribs. “But it's-”

“Call him,” she said firmly, handing over your phone.

Reluctantly, you unlocked your phone and pressed the small phone icon next to his name. It rang three times before he picked up.

“Y/n? What's up?”

“Uhhh—I was—just calling to-”

“Are you okay? You sound like you're in pain-”

“Ah, yeah, so... I was walking back home, right, and uh—I'm home now, for the record—I had this sort of run in with some guys and I guess my ribs-”

A moment of shocked silence. “I'll be right over.”

“Wait, Peter-”

_Beep beep._ He'd hung up.

“What happened?”

“He hung up on me, and now he's coming over. I told you, he's freaking out now-”

“Well, yeah! You're his lady, his gal, his boo, and you broke your ribs! Of course he's freaking out!”

You let out a long, slow grumble, closing your eyes and waiting for your surprisingly strong painkillers A.I.M. had supplied you with to kick in. It didn't take long, luckily, and it didn't take much longer after that for Peter to show up either. You were beginning to drift off, in fact, when there was a rushed knock on the door. You registered footsteps padding towards the door—Stacy—and the click of the door as she opened it.

“Hey Peter, she's just on the couch. She might be kind of out of it, those painkillers are pretty strong...”

More feet, louder this time, thumping towards you-

“Hey, Y/n, you okay?”

“Mmmhhhnn.”

“Y/n.”

You opened your eyes with a surprising amount of difficulty. What even were in those painkillers?

“You okay?” Peter was crouched beside the couch, eyes concerned. He stroked your hair and held one of your hands.

“Mmyeah, 'm good.” You blinked, nodding.

He let out a nervous and relieved chuckle. “What happened?”

“Said she got mugged,” Stacy supplied from somewhere in the kitchen behind the couch.

Peter's mouth thinned and his brow furrowed.

“Apparently she broke the guy's nose and he didn't get a chance to steal any of her stuff, so there's that.”

Peter looked from Stacy back to you, still a serious glint in his eye, but now surprise as well. “I didn't know you were so tough.”

“Y/n's one of the toughest people I know. You want some tea?”

“Tea would be great.”

The whole exchange went in one ear and out the other, you now felt like you were floating in lukewarm saltwater.

“Pete, I feel like 'm floatin'...”

Peter laughed slightly. “The hell kind of painkillers did they give you?” He stopped stroking your hair and turned and picked up the bottle off of the coffee table to examine the label, frowning. Through your hazy blinking you thought you saw him pocket one of the pills, but forgot about it almost instantly when Stacy brought over tea for Peter and a smoothie for yourself.

“I have to work tonight, if you're free-”

“I can come back and take care of her. I have to go drop off my final project for...”

You tuned out the conversation as Stacy handed over the smoothie, and all of your senses focused in on the smoothie like a cat on a laser toy.

* * *

 

“Hey Y/n, you awake?”

Blinking heavily you pulled your consciousness out of sleep like a swimmer heaving themselves out over the side of a swimming pool.

“Yeah—yup I'm up, I'm up—ow, shit. Hey, what're you doing here?”

Peter was sitting on the floor in front of the couch you were laying on, a rom-com playing on the TV, and eating yogurt covered pretzels. “Stacy had to work so I'm taking care of you because your painkillers are, apparently, very very strong.”

You nodded, yawning. “Reasonable.”

“I was about to make some food, hungry?”

“Sure. What are you watching?”

“'Ten Things I Hate About You.' I kind of forgot how much of a babe Heath Ledger is,” Peter grinned at you as he shifted and rose to his feet. “How you feeling, need any painkillers before I go cook?”

“I think I'll be okay for now,” you said, reaching for the bottle as soon as he was in the next room to check the label.

Sure enough, there was the A.I.M. logo hidden in the corner of the label. Clearly these were no ordinary pills.

Peter finished cooking some simple pasta, helping you sit up so you could eat when he came back. You checked your phone while you ate, a few social media notifications here and there, and a text from A.I.M.

_Don't let anyone else get hold of your pills. They are not meant for those without powers. Do not miss a dose, they will heal your ribs faster. Delete after reading._

You deleted the message with a frown.

“Hey, Y/n, what do you know about A.I.M.?”

You nearly snorted a noodle out of your nose.

“What?”

“A.I.M., the tech company?”

“Uh, I know they're one of Stark's main competitors and they offered me a job post graduation, why?”

Peter shrugged. “I noticed their logo on your meds.”

A chill ran down your spine. “Oh. Yeah, they've been expanding into different stuff I guess.”

Peter nodded, eyes ahead on the TV screen. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, suspicious.

_Does he know?_

Peter looked at you. “Did I ever tell you about my ex Gwen?”

You shook your head, a jolt in your stomach reminded you that she was the girl on Harry's fridge. “No.”

“We met our first year of college, she was studying English and literature and stuff, I was studying all my nerd shit. Harry introduced us.”

You swallowed, looking at him.

“We dated for about two years, she was my first serious girlfriend.”

“What happened?"

“She uh... Green Goblin... Well, I guess she was trying to help Spider-Man, and Green Goblin saw that... She died. Fell, I guess.”

“Oh, my g- Peter, I'm so sorry. I had no idea--”

Peter was looking down at his food. You could tell he was tearing up. “I'm so... I'm so sorry, Peter.”

“And my Uncle Ben, too. He raised me, basically, him and my Aunt May after my parents died. He died in a mugging.”

Suddenly everything hit you at once. Peter had lost so much, his Uncle, Gwen, his parents. And here you were, secretly using his best friend in a plot to commit a murder that could easily get either or both of you hurt or killed, and you hadn't even thought-

“That's why I rushed over as soon as you called, I just remembered my Uncle Ben, and I remembered Gwen and-” Peter turned and met your eyes. “Y/n, I know we haven't been together that long and I don't want to freak you out and you don't have to return it and you can even ignore it but—fuck, I realized when you called that I can't lose you too. I just- shit, I love you, Y/n.”

Blank. That's what your mind was, blank. You couldn't remember any words, you just stared, images of Harry, drunk, agreeing to help you kill Spider-Man. You were destroying his best friend, and he loved you and—you hated to admit it, but even with everything going on, you were starting to love Peter too.

You were just staring now, and the silence was going past what was probably acceptable.

“Peter...”

“Don't say anything, I just wanted to tell you. I won't mention it again, I promise, until you know how you feel or-” he didn't even sound bitter. He genuinely meant every word.

“Peter, you're amazing, did you know that? Come here.”

He laughed, and shifted around so he could accept your awkward and delicate hug.

* * *

 

You hid it, but you were completely healed and ready for a fight again only three days later. You couldn't let Peter or Stacy know, otherwise they'd be suspicious of your ridiculous recovery time. But A.I.M. knew, and had you back on the clock immediately.

Another visit to a politician, some more thieving, etc.

And then they asked you to sink a ship before it docked. Not a passenger ship, of course, but a cargo ship, bringing in who knows what. They didn't tell you, you didn't ask. It was your job to just destroy everything on it.

It was easy to get onto the ship, you just lounged about on a crane until it passed nearby, and then you launched yourself across the water onto the deck like a glowing indigo meteor. And, like a particularly large meteorite, you made a pretty sizable impact, crashing through the surface of the deck and crashing into the belly of the ship. _Not too shabby of a start_ , you thought to yourself as an alarm started to sound.

You smashed your way through each floor of the ship down to the bottom, careful to leave the stairs and escape routes intact. You weren't about to drown yourself, or intentionally trap anybody else for that matter.

“FREEZE! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!”

You turned slowly from the closed door in front of you, raising your hands slowly, letting the glow fade from your gloved fists. “Oh, hey there. What can I do for you this fine evening, gentlemen?”

Two guards in combat gear, complete with night-vision goggles, were pointing rather large guns at you.

“On your knees, NOW.”

“Oh dear, this is awkward, I have a pretty bad knee, once I get down there's almost no chance of me getting back up again, it's a whole ordeal-” you stalled, backing closer to the wall.

“I said on your knees, NOW!”

You spun, fist quickly lighting back up, and punched through the wall behind you. The sound of gunfire was quickly drowned out by the sound of water rushing in through the hull, and you jumped aside, running towards the two men, knocking them aside, and running towards the exit. So much for the engine room, looks like it was gonna be an old fashioned Titanic hull disaster. Except instead of an iceberg, it was you.

You ran back up a level, punched some more holes, and repeat. You found a fire on the third one up, where you'd crashed through something apparently highly flammable. People were struggling to put it out.

“GET OUT, GET OUT! IT'S SINKING!” You yelled, chasing them out. You may be a hired villain but you weren't going to willingly let people die who were just doing their jobs. With the room cleared, you thoroughly trashed all the contents as the fire spread, waiting until the very last second to escape up to the deck. The crew were evacuating, packing into lifeboats—

**BOOM.**

Crates exploded at the end of the ship, the fire had eaten through the floor and was now spreading to the deck, and whatever was in the crates was reacting very, very poorly to the heat.

Most of the small crew was off the boat, the lifeboats trying as best they could to get away from the fire and explosio-

**BOOM.**

You were knocked to the deck, landing face-first on the salty surface.

A pair of hands, helping you up, gripping your shoulders-

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” He had to yell, everything was too loud, or you wouldn't have been able to hear him.

Spider-Man.

You stumbled to your feet. “MY JOB, IDIOT,” you pushed him away, taking a defensive stance.

Two more explosions— **B-BOOOM.**

“LOOK, WE CAN DO THE WHOLE HERO VS VILLAIN THING LATER, BUT WE NEED TO GET EVERYONE OFF THE SHIP-”

“THE CREW IS ALL OFF, I'M A DICK BUT I'M NOT A TOTAL ASSHOLE.”

“EVEN THE CAPTAIN?”

You turned towards the bridge. The fire was getting closer to it, and there was clearly someone still inside. You looked at Spider-Man, and the both of you started running.  
The bridge was raised up higher than the deck, but the stairs up were blocked by debris from a destroyed cargo container. You reached for your grappling-hook gun, but Spider-Man beat you to it and swung the both of you up to the top of the stairs.

“CAPTAIN?” Spider-Man ran into the bridge and ducked, shielding his face with his arms as a window exploded into the room.

You stood behind in the doorway, looking around. You could—no, you should just kill him and leave the captain there too.

“Spider-Man!” An astonished voice came from behind a rather large—something. You didn't know what it was called.

Spider-Man rushed over to him. “I'm here to get you out, is there anyone else on board?”

You saw the Captain shake his head, but couldn't hear his reply as another explosion went off, shattering just about all of the remaining windows. You stumbled and braced yourself in the doorway.

“SPIDER-MAN, GET HIM OUT OF HERE.”

The captain and Spider-Man both turned to look at you.

“BLACK LIGHT?!”

“Let's go, Captain!” Spider-Man helped the captain out, you moved quickly out of the way to let them through the door. Spider-Man stopped as he passed you, turning his head back. “You coming?”

“Gotta finish my job, Bug-Boy.”

“I'm gonna save this guy, then I'm coming back to take you in. You aren't getting away with this.”

“Sure, sure,” you waved him off, and he zipped away.

The ship was now starting to angle itself into the sea, the fiery cargo sinking under as the bridge started to raise into the sky and the fire, naturally, spread upwards. You braced yourself against the control board, and looked out at the fire-

**BOOM.**

Might as well destroy all the ship's computers while you were here. With a bit of a struggle you set about smashing everything with lights and buttons you could find on the bridge. Given the sharp angle of the ship it took you quite a while to move about and get it all done. The fire was getting much, much closer.

“TIME TO GO, BLACK LIGHT.”

You turned around, not realizing you'd been staring out of the bridge at the sinking ship. “GO WHERE, BUG-BOY?”

“JAIL, PROBABLY.”

You followed him out of the bridge, following his instructions to hold him tightly around the waist as he shot a web onto a large crane hanging over the water quite some distance away and swung you off the ship. He pulled the two of you to the top of the crane, where he sat, catching his breath for a few moments. You crouched a few feet away.

“Why the hell did you do that?” He was looking at you. “Why did you sink that ship?”

“My boss told me to.”

“Why?”

“I didn't ask.”

“So you just did it?”

“Don't really have a choice, do I?”

News and rescue helicopters arrived, circling like vultures around the sinking ship.

“There's always a choice. Why did you stay on board? Was it just to finish the job or were you actually doing what I thought you were?”

“Depends on what you thought I was doing.”

“Saving people.”

“I didn't save anybody, I just was making sure everyone was off.” Pause. “So they wouldn't stop me while I finished up.”

“Bullshit. There's good in you. You were making sure nobody would die.”

“The only thing left in me at his point is caffeine and spite, honestly.”

“Why do you do what you do when you could help people? You have amazing abilities, Black Light.”

“I can't back out of my job, Bug-Boy. I'm not just doing this for fun. Stop pushing it before I decide to zap you instead of just letting you go.”

“Letting _me_ go? I'm the one who's about to take you off to jail-!”

“Sure you are, buddy,” you said, inching closer and lighting up your fists.

He groaned loudly and almost comically. “You gotta be kidding me, I just saved you and now you're gonna attack me? Today is just a clusterf-”

You swung at his head and he ducked, bending backwards at an angle only a gymnast could achieve. He dropped and spun his foot out to knock you off your feet, and you jumped, stumbling when you landed back on your feet.

“Careful there little miss light-bulb, we aren't exactly on solid ground here-”

He was cut off quite abruptly when you tackled him, the two of you tumbling over the edge of the crane. He shot out a web and missed, shot out another one—and jolted away from you, having attached himself to one of the news helicopters. You took out your grappling hook and shot back towards the crane, catching it on the first try, and as you were reeling yourself back up, a spotlight landed on you.

_Well, I guess everybody knows it was me now. How am I gonna outrun the helicopter without Harry?_

The helicopter started circling, spotlight fixing on you. You could see Spider-Man hanging onto the outside of the door. The asshole had pointed you out to them!

Another helicopter started circling, adding another blinding spotlight onto you. You raised an arm to shield your eyes from the light.

**BOOM!**

Simultaneously, there was an explosion from the sinking boat, and one of the helicopters exploded, the blast knocking you off of the crane. You panicked, vision blurry from the blinding light, and struggled to unhook your grappling hook from your belt when you were caught from the side and suddenly zooming through the air away from the shrapnel.

“I got you!” A distorted voice yelled.

“Goblin! Spider-Man-”

“Where?!”

“Back on one of the helicopters—we should go, get him next time-” You could tell he was hesitating, but your vision was filled with spots and your ears were ringing. “Harry, I can barely see and my ears are ringing from the explosions, we'll get him next time, I _promise_.”

You felt the air tugging at your hood as the glider picked up speed and the Green Goblin took you back to his penthouse to patch you up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking around for this update, it's been one heckuva time and I've had a helluva lot going on but I do really sincerely want to finish this fic and even if it takes forever I'll get it done.


	12. Another Job Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this one, I actually had quite a bit of fun writing it and I think I figured out where this is actually gonna go!

Upon arriving back home, Harry guided you to a seat on one of his charcoal gray couches. He took off his helmet as he walked into the kitchen, turning his enormous TV on to a news channel.

“-Hooded woman confirmed as the renegade widely known as 'Black Light,' but her involvement is as yet unconfirmed, though it's believed she is responsible for the destruction of the cargo ship. The number of suspected casualties is low, thanks to the arrival of Spider-Man on the scene-”

You scoffed, rubbing your eyes through your mask.

“You can take that mask off you know, I've turned my security cameras off. It's just me here,” Harry said, handing you a handful of drugstore painkillers and a glass of water.

“Thanks,” you accepted the painkillers and gulped it down with the water, your vision returning to normal but your head still gently throbbing and ears lightly ringing. “But I still can't let you know who I am.”

“Why the hell not? You know who I am, you know who my father was! I'd say I have a hell of a lot more to lose than you if people found out I'm the Green Goblin than you do if anyone found out you were Black Light-”

You cradled your head in your hand, putting the glass of water down heavily on a coaster.

“-Rescue crews have not been able to find any bodies asides from those of the-”

“I think it's only fair if I know who you are.”

“-pilot and reporter, both likely deceased upon the explosion, a result of the grenade thrown by the new Green Goblin, who rescued and escaped with Black Light-”

Why did everything sound like it was on the other side of thin glass?

“I can't tell you. I'm under strict orders to keep my identity secret-”

“Orders? From who? Who do you work for?!”

“I can't tell you that either! All you need to know is that they want Spider-Man out of the way too, and if I don't get it done, they'll hurt people! Including your friend Peter Parker!”

“Is that a threat? Look, I don't work for whoever the fuck- they have _no right_ to threaten me-”

“Look, I'm just the errand runner-”

Harry grabbed your shoulder close to your neck and roughly shoved you back against the couch, your hand falling away from your face. “You tell whoever the fuck you work for that I am _more_ than happy to collaborate on bringing down Spider-Man, but once they bring _my friends_ into this-”

He didn't see it coming when you kicked him in the chest with a glowing foot. If he hadn't been wearing his Green Goblin armor, he would have broken nearly every bone when he flew across the room and crashed into his TV, cracking the screen down the middle before bouncing off and dropping heavily to the floor.

“The threat to Peter wasn't about _YOU_ , Harry Osborn!” You'd had enough. Harry wasn't going to just go along with it. You jumped to your feet and yanked back your hood, ripping it from it's attachments to your mask, and pulled the mask off too as Harry rolled off his face and caught his breath.

The look of astonishment on his face was priceless.

“Y/n? You- but- you're Peter's girlfriend!”

“No shit!”

“But Black Light, she's from- fake accent, I'm guessing?”

“Obviously!”

“Peter doesn't know?”

“No, of course he doesn't.”

Harry stood there, staring at you. “I don't suppose you'll tell me who you work for?”

You shook your head.

“I thought you broke your ribs?”

“My employers gave me some experimental drugs.”

“...I need a drink.”

“Pour one for me, while you're at it,” you replied, putting your mask back on while Harry clumsily struggled to his feet and went past you into the kitchen. “Sorry about your TV.”

“It's fine, I'll get a new one tomorrow.”

You sat back down on the couch, finishing off the glass of water with one gulp. Behind you was the soft sound of cupboards opening and closing, glasses clinking, the crack of ice, and the chug of a drink or two being poured. Harry brought two glasses, round and short, simple and sleek, filled with a dark brown drink. He placed a bottle on the glass coffee table and handed one of the glasses to you.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you tapped your glass against his and took a sip. Harry finished his in one go and poured a second drink for himself.

“Why did they threaten Peter?”

You sighed, closing your eyes. You took another sip, the alcohol and the drugstore painkillers easing your headache and your ringing ears.

“Daredevil beat me in a fight recently. That's how I _really_ hurt my ribs.”

“You got the shit kicked out of you, so they threatened your boyfriend?” Harry scoffed.

“I let someone else _win_ so they threatened my boyfriend.”

“Never really liked Daredevil. Thought his whole design was kind of pretentious."

“Harry, you dress up as an evil goblin.”

Harry laughed. “Point taken.”

You smiled, but it half felt like a grimace. “I dunno what to do about Peter. I don't want them to hurt him but this job is getting... I liked it at first-”

“But now it's getting dangerous.”

“Not just that—I _like_ a healthy amount of danger as much as the next person, maybe more, but Peter, and Stacy...”

“What they don't know can't hurt them, Y/n. Peter wouldn't understand, it's best to keep him in the dark for now. And I'll help you keep them safe, since you're helping me with... You know.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Harry.”

“It's the least I can do, Y/n. Peter's important to me too, and you're already helping me get Spider-Man.” Harry squeezed your shoulder in a display of reassurance. “How you feeling?”

“The drink is helping with the headache and the ringing.”

“Need to stay and just relax for a bit?”

“That'd be great. Can we get the news back on?”

“...Sure, if you don't mind the crack,” Harry teased dryly.

You grinned. “I don't mind.”

Harry got the news back on, the image distorted from the crack down the screen surrounded by black spreading tentacles of dead pixels. Stark was on half of the screen.

“-vengers, but I myself am starting to consider Black Light a bit of a concern. So far all of her targets have been related to places strongly connected with advancing technology. I think it's not unlikely that she may have some local terrorist connections, but really nobody can say for sure.”

“What can you say about the fact that Black Light has not yet targeted Stark Industries? Do you think there's a reason for that?”

“She's too scared to come after an Avenger, obviously.”

You scoffed loudly. “That cocky sunnuva-”

Harry laughed loudly. “Don't go out of your way to do something stupid.”

“What an asshole! He wouldn't be so cocky if he knew I'd stolen his shit right from under his nose-”

“As Iron Man, are you going to engage in fighting this—this apparent rogue?”

“If I get the opportunity, I can assure you we'd get her out of the way. As it is, I know that Spider-Man has had a few run ins-”

The panels containing the face of the reporter and the face of Tony Stark drifted apart, and between them appeared a picture of Spider-Man, the dead pixels of the TV appearing to be reaching out to devour and strangle him. The picture changed to a still of him and Black Light on the crane with the burning ship in the background.

“-with Black Light. We've talked a few times, so Spidey, if you're seeing this why don't you swing on by so we can talk about another team up?”

“Any comment on the recent reappearance of Green Goblin, believed to be dead?”

“It's clearly not the original. He's got a new design, a new vibe. Someone's taken up his mantle. Why he's involved with Black Light, not a clue yet. Obviously they've got something in common.”

“Thank you for your time Mr. Stark. Back on the scene, first responders have-”

“Guess we better make a move on Bug Boy before we have to worry about fighting Iron Man too,” Harry said dryly.

You nodded in silent agreement.

* * *

 

Pretending your ribs still hurt for the last week of recovery was the most challenging thing you'd ever had to do—at least when others were around. You stored the pills A.I.M. had given you in with your Black Light costume. Peter was busy with finals, so you didn't see him much during that time. You didn't have the heart to tell him you'd dropped out of school, so you lied and said you'd made special arrangements to take your finals at different times. Stacy was barely home, working constantly and finishing her semester too.

You spent the majority of your free time doing work for A.I.M., working in Noble's lab again to come up with better gadgets and tools for Black Light to potentially use against Iron Man, training at the secret headquarters, and trying to come up with a trap for Spider-Man with Harry.

It was in bed watching Netflix that you got a call from a number you didn't have saved in your phone. Pausing your show, you answered, curious.

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/l/n?”

“Yes, how can I hep you...?”

“I'm calling from the office of Mr. Tony Stark, he asked me to schedule a meeting with you at our offices.”

“A meeting?”

“He said you met at the charity fundraiser and discussed a job offer.”

You'd nearly forgotten about meeting Tony Stark with what had been happening lately.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, I'd love to come in.”

“Are you available Friday at one-fifteen?”

“Yes, I'll be there.”

“Wonderful. Check in at the front desk at Stark Tower and they'll direct you where to go from there.”

“Thank you so much-”

“Thank you.” _Click._

Barely seconds after the call had ended your phone buzzed with a text from Peter.

_Not gonna make it over tonight, I'm sorry :'( raincheck?_

You replied, reassuring him that it was okay but you missed him—you'd only seen him once in the last two weeks since he'd told you he loved you, and you were scared he was going to bolt because you hadn't said anything back. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I'm hoooooome, Y/n! And I brought Chinese for dinner!”

“Be right there!”

* * *

 

Friday, 12:56 P.M. You walked up to the front desk on the first floor, wearing your best professional business clothes; pencil skirt, low heels, crisp white shirt.

“Hello, I have an appointment for one-fifteen?”

“Name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Here is your visitor's badge, insert it into the visitor slot under the floor buttons and the elevator will take you up.” The woman handed you a swipe-card on a red lanyard with little Iron Man faces all over it, looking you up and down briefly with a hint of judgement.

You frowned slightly and thanked her, turning away towards the elevator. You slipped on the lanyard, inspecting the card as you pressed a button and waited for the elevator. On one side was simply your name and a blue dot. The other side was a microchip and a metal strip.

A soft ding and the elevator doors slid open in front of you. You stepped into the empty elevator, quickly finding the slot for your visitor card and inserting it like a debit card at an ATM.

“Hello Miss Y/l/n. Heading to Mr. Stark's office now,” a soft feminine voice announced through the speakers.

What? Your meeting was with _actual_ fucking Tony Stark? Iron Man?! The man who had declared on live TV he'd team up to take you down with Spider-Man? You tensed up, watching the floor numbers grow higher and higher. And then the elevator dinged again and the doors opened. You hadn't realized the elevator had even stopped. You vaguely registered the voice over the speakers giving you directions to Stark's office, before it told you to have a nice day and you stepped out.

You floated through the level and arrived at Stark's office, anxious, prepping for a fight in your head against Iron Man, arriving at his office. You knocked three times-

“Come in!” Came Stark's voice from within.

You braced yourself, opening the door, and stepping though.

Tony stark was leaning, half seated on the edge of the side of his desk, comfortable and casually talking to a figure by the window who's stance also suggested surprise at finding another person in the office who wasn't Tony Stark.

Reflexively you tensed up, taking a slightly defensive stance, ready to fight-

“Miss Y/l/n! Go ahead and close that door behind you. Have you met my friend here?” He gestured for you to come further into his spacious office. You walked in, trying to hide your defensive panic.

“I can't say I've seen anywhere but on TV,” you said, cautious, as the figure stepped towards you slightly, posture neutral.

“Spider-Man, meet Y/n Y/l/n. Y/n, this is my good friend Spider-Man. Go on, shake hands.”

What was this? Did Stark know who you were? Was this a set up? Or was he just being Tony Stark? You put your hand out to shake, looking at Spider-Man directly in the mask.  
Stark was grinning as Spider-Man awkwardly and cautiously put his hand into yours and shook it for just a moment too long.

“Never seen him speechless before. Guess the way to get you to shut up is a pretty girl, eh Spidey?” Stark laughed, eyes twinkling. “Bad news, she's taken. Sorry Spidey.”

Spider-Man turned his head and looked at Stark, still standing right in front of you. You took the opportunity while he was looking away to look him up and down—you'd never been this close to him before without the two of you trying to beat the shit out of each other. His collarbone was right in your eye line. A quick glance down, taking in his chest and-

Tony Stark cleared his throat, your gaze snapped to him. Spider-Man was looking at you. Your face burned.

“Miss Y/l/n do you have any experience working with superheroes?”

“Ah—I can't say I do. Before about five minutes ago you were the only one I'd met, Mr. Stark.”

His eyes twinkled. “Really, how many times must I ask you to call me Tony? Tsk tsk. Peter's not here, we can be friendly.”

You didn't see it but Spider-Man was clenching his fist.

Stark was really laying it on thick, but you knew it was only playful flirting. His reputation preceded him.

“Sorry, Tony, but Spider-Man here is a bit more my type,” you shot back with a grin.

Spider-Man looked at you with what you were guessing was surprise behind the mask.

Stark busted out laughing.

“Really, Tony?”

You whipped your head back towards Spider-Man when he finally spoke.

“Sorry kid, it's just too funny. Why don't you come by later and we'll finish chatting, I'd better start Y/n's interview.”

Spider-Man saluted Stark with two fingers, strolling over to the window. He looked back at you. “Maybe I'll see you around,” he dangled, a mildly flirty tone layered underneath.

“Careful what you wish for, Bug-Boy,” you smirked playfully.

Spider-Man jumped out of the window and swung away.

You turned back to Tony Stark. “So, I didn't realize I was going to be meeting actual Tony Stark again today for just a job offer.”

“Not just any job offer, Y/n. I actually had something big to talk to you about. Why don't we sit?” Tony gestured to the couch by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. You followed him over and sat on one end, and he sat on the other, respectfully leaving a cushion between the two of you. “Sorry about all that, that kid is just too fun to mess with. So, last time we met, you said A.I.M. had given you an offer as well? Have you done any work for them yet?”

“A small amount, yes,” you conveniently left out the nature of that work.

“You seem like a good kid, Y/n. So I'll be honest with you, and this is coming from me as Iron Man, not as Tony Stark the business man.”

You tensed up. He knew-

“There's been a lot of sketchy stuff happening that seems connected to A.I.M. and I would hate to see a great brain like yours get caught up and used by bad people. I'd like for you to come work for Stark Industries where you can do some real good.”

You were staring at your knees, shoving the anxiety down. You'd thought he was going to call you out on being Black Light.

“I know how smart you are, I've seen some of your papers. You might even be smarter than Peter Parker, and he's one of the smartest kids I've seen since—well, since me.”

You looked at him. His ankle was resting on his other knee and he had an arm over the back of the couch. You crossed your leg towards him. “What kind of sketchy stuff are they connected with?”

Tony paused, then ran a hand over his goatee. “Well. I have a source that says Black Light works for them, and given recent events, it's hard to see how that makes them very _good,_ frankly.”

“I hope you don't mind me asking, but is that why you were meeting with Spider-Man? About Black Light? I saw on TV-”

“Yes, it was. And it's part of why I want to hire you as soon as possible.”

You nodded.

“So you're interested?”

“Definitely.”

“How do you feel about working directly with some of the biggest heroes? On the side of your own projects and various company projects, of course.”

You grinned. This was perfect. “I would love it.”

“Great. I'm starving, let's work out a deal over lunch.” He rose off the couch, you following suit and smoothing your skirt. “How's Italian sound? I've been craving some pesto.”

Still grinning, you just nodded and followed him out of the office.

He took you to an authentic place on the other side of the area, where the two of you sat in a booth and ate while discussing business and inventions and even Peter. Tony payed, of course, and then generously took you back home, where you changed and went straight back to Noble's lab.

You immediately called Harry as soon as you were in the lab alone.

“Harry, I think I have an idea on how to draw out Spider-Man, but it might bring along Iron Man too.”

Harry's voice, urgent and eager, slightly static-y from poor reception came back. “What is it?”

You turned and looked at your scattered workbench. “Alright, it's a little ridiculous, but just hear me out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony really just couldn't help himself from messing with Peter, the best part is imagining the faces he was making under that goofy lookin mask


	13. In Which You Meet the Infamous Venom, and Begin to Formulate a Plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of action in this chapter since the next one looks reeelatively mellow

It was early afternoon on Saturday, and you were at A.I.M. headquarters participating in your now mandatory and rather strict training under supervision of the same crew you'd met on your first day at A.I.M.--Dr. Schmidt, Eto, and Jimmy. Their pleasant company helped you to feel like less of a tool being tested for future use and more like an actual person, though the threat of Mr. Adams crushing your ribs—and your friends—lingered in the back of your mind the entire time.

“I dunno, Dr. Schmidt, I feel like she's just not getting the right level of challenge,” you vaguely heard Eto say in the background as you clotheslined Jimmy's sparring-bot. “It's just muscle memory now, there's no real adrenaline. We need to step it up if Mr. Adams expects her to go up against Spider-Man _and_ Iron Man.”

“What do you think, Jimmy?”

You were standing on Jimmy's robot now, panting and looking at the three scientists. You wiped a bit of sweat off your forehead and flicked it off the back of your hand to the ground.

“Well my sparring-bot doesn't really have any higher settings, so unless you plan to bring in an actual person to fight her-”

Dr. Schmidt's face lit up, his hand in a thoughtful position over his mouth.

“Oh, no, Dr. Schmidt, absolutely not-” Eto straightened up, exasperated, turning to face Dr. Schmidt.

“What? What is he thinking of?” You called out, concerned.

“I am not going to be in the same room with that—that _thing-_ ” Eto was grimacing.

“If we're bringing him out, we need to get behind a safety window,” Jimmy seemed nervous.

“Bring what thing out?!”

“Y/n, do you remember the news about a year ago when a black-suited Spider-Man was running around the city?”

“We can't let her fight that thing, it's _insane_ and there's no way to control it-”

“If she can beat Venom, she can more than hold her own against an Avenger.”

“Wait— _Venom?!_ I thought Spider-Man beat that thing, destroyed it or something in a fire!”

“Not quite,” Dr. Schmidt piped up. “We got our hands on it, and we've been keeping it around. Absolutely fascinating test-subject, if you ask me.”

“Doesn't it—doesn't it need a host?” You knew you weren't going to like the answer.

“We have more than a sufficient supply of volunteers,” Dr. Schmidt said, waiving his hand dismissively. “Dr. Eto, if you would retrieve Venom for us-”

“With all due respect, I don't think it's a good idea, Dr. Schmidt.”

Suddenly an idea—a brilliant, dangerous idea—popped into your head.

“I think it's a great idea. I'm up for it.”

Eto gave you a solemn look. “Alright. I'll go retrieve Venom and find one of the host volunteers.” She swept out of the training room, the tail of her white lab coat waving at you as she passed through the door.

Jimmy came forward to collect his sparring-bot and wheeled it out of the room on it's carrier. Dr. Schmidt approached you with a small towel. You accepted it and dried off your face and neck.

“So what's the deal with Venom?”

“We're not exactly sure where it came from, but what we know is it's a highly intelligent symbiote that seeks to either control or collaborate with the host to achieve it's personal goals, usually by offering to help the host in the process, and that it is... It can be very psychologically difficult to be the host. Some of our tests have resulted in the host developing a drug-like dependence on Venom to the point where going long periods without it result in withdrawal symptoms. The most common result so far has been increasing mental instability and increasingly violent tendencies, likely a result of the Venom wanting to escape the base.”

“Is there any danger of it trying to attach to me?”

“About thirty percent chance, yes. Just don't let it grab you for more than twenty seconds. At thirty is when it begins to attach, and after a minute and a half it starts to try to get into your head to try to make a deal with you. With the equipment we have it's pretty easy to scare it off, it's only after forty-eight hours that it really starts to actually take over. It doesn't like fire or loud noises, so maybe that whole glowing thing you do with your body might scare it, hm?” Dr. Schmidt smiled at you like he hadn't just told you you were going to fight a sentient goo that tries to take over people's minds and slowly drive them insane.

“Sure,” you nodded.

“Now, I know me and Eto and Jimmy usually just hang out by the door and watch while you spar, but because we don't have any powers to fight back with against Venom and it is known to lash out, we'll be behind that mirror, watching and ready to help if it goes south. Alright?”

You nodded, psyching yourself up.

“I wouldn't suggest this if I didn't think you were ready to handle the challenge, Y/n. You're gonna do great.”

Jimmy and Eto entered through the sliding steel doors of the training room, followed by a large, bald, strong-looking man in what looked like a surfer's wetsuit with suction-cup shaped medical sensors built in at key points on his body, including a set on his cranium. He was easily two or three times your mass and many heads taller than everyone in the room. Eto was holding a large glass cylinder, the length of her slender torso and half as wide around. Inside was an eery swirling black mass gathered at the bottom, tentacles travelling up the inside walls like slime-mold or a disfigured octopus. If a faceless mass of intelligent goo could ever embody the word _sinister_ , this was it.

“Blake, this is Black Light. Black Light, this is one of our best field agents, we just call him Blake,” Jimmy introduced the two of you.

Blake nodded. “Pleasure to meat you, Miss. Big fan.”

You shook his hand, which engulfed yours.

“Blake is by far our most capable Venom host we have. He may look like just a big mountain of beef, but he's also one of our smartest men, and has quite the functional relationship with our odd little symbiote.” Jimmy paused. “Well. Functional as one can be with Venom, anyway.”

Blake stepped aside with Eto, while Jimmy left the room.

“Remember, Y/n, we will all be just on the other side of the mirrors. If anything goes wrong, you see the speakers in the corners? We'll activate a preselected tone and blast it to disarm Venom. Blake knows the drill, you just get out of the way if that sound starts playing.”

“Got it.”

Dr. Schmidt left, followed by Eto, and it was just you and Blake and a tube of Venom in the training room. Blake was doing some stretches—you had already done yours, but a few smaller ones couldn't hurt, so you stretched your arms, eying the shifting black mass in it's glass cage.

And then Blake was done stretching, and Jimmy's voice came over the speakers. “Alright, you meatheads ready?”

You nodded, Blake giving a thumbs up in the general direction of the mirrors.

“Alright. Blake, you may release Venom,” came Dr. Schmidt's voice.

You shifted your stance into the defensive as Blake turned and knelt down by the glass tube, grabbing it around the side and placing a giant hand over the complicated looking metal cap on one end. Twisting slowly, he opened it cautiously like it was an overfilled thermos of boiling tea, the action joined by a soft pressurized hiss of air.

Inside the canister, as Blake was slowly turning the lid, the black tentacles multiplied, stretching upwards, until the whole of the clear glass was black. As Blake slowly lifted off the lid, a handful of waving jagged tentacles probed the air, and as he was lowering the lid to place it on the ground, they spread towards his arms. The first tendrils made contact and immediately began to spread over his skin with growing speed, and suddenly the whole mass of shifting black goo surged out of the canister, launching itself at his chest, and Blake disappeared into it as it expanded, covering him entirely. You watched with a deep seated difficult-to-describe unsettledness.

Blake rose from—no, Venom rose from it's one knee and turned around to face you. If possible it was even bigger than Blake had been. Suddenly a hole split open in it's face filled with a mass of bristling fangs and jagged teeth, and a long red dripping tongue ventured forth as if tasting the air like a snake. It hissed, milky ooze dripping from it's teeth, and it's gaze fell on you.

You couldn't say how you knew this, but it recognized you. You stepped back, as if shoved by your own surprise, and Venom roared, running at you. You barely jumped out of the way as a giant clawed hand reached out to tear open your chest.

And there it was, the adrenaline. Venom chased you around the room, you dodging, evading, spinning away by just a hair's breadth each time. You were beginning to have fun with it, despite the undercurrent of fear running in your adrenaline and your pounding heart. It was getting frustrated, it wasn't in the mood to play. Suddenly you were knocked off your feet as if by a whip, you gasped for air and rolled onto your back just in time to see Venom looming over you, high pitched shrieking coming from it's unnaturally wide jaw. It grabbed you in both hands, and it started shifting—it was letting _go_ of Blake and spreading onto you. You screamed, struggling and glowing in the giant hands. It recoiled slightly, and then realizing the glow was not fire, it surged forwards with renewed enthusiasm, enveloping your arms, your torso, your legs, spreading along your arms and up towards your head-

You thought wearing Venom would feel claustrophobic. It was anything but that. It was like being wrapped in your favorite blanket, unexpectedly cool on a sweltering day. The uncomfortable feeling of sweat disappeared, absorbed by the symbiote. It was like you were floating in a saltwater pool, weightless-

You continued to struggle, glowing and yelling, hoping the combination of sound and light would somehow miraculously frighten it off. But to no avail. It spread over your face and you felt Blake fall away to the side, abandoned by Venom. You couldn't see now, but you could hear a voice, eery and inhuman and jagged and hissing-

“...Know you've met Spider-Man, want to get to... Sssssspider-Man, help you take him down, escape A.I.M. togetherrrrr....?”

An image flashed into your head, from another host's point of view, a memory of watching you fighting Spider-Man above the burning ship on TV. Another image, hazy, from Spider-Man's point of view, wearing Venom, panicked and struggling in a bell tower to rip it off accompanied by the agony of rejection, a flash of an image of your face and a great surge of recognition and excitement, and it was gone, there was a loud ringing that shook your whole body, and you heard that same sound of Venom shrieking, only louder and coming from you, but you weren't making it—and then the secure feeling of Venom wrapped around you started to twist into painful squeezing and flapping as it tried to hold onto you while also trying to escape the pure agony of the blaring speakers. You fell to your knees—when had you risen to your feet?—and covered your hands with your ears, still screaming in Venom's voice, and then it was peeling away from your head and off your legs and arms and fell down from your chest, thrashing about, one moment resembling a massive sea-urchin, the next a marimo ball, the next a mass of agonized tentacles—you squeezed your ears shut, and then the sound all stopped, and Blake had returned Venom to the canister, and the team was running to you.

“Y/n, Y/n are you alright?!”

You felt hands pulling your arms away from your ears, and you looked up, meeting the eyes of Eto.

“I've never seen it act like that, not since we first brought it in...” Schmidt was kneeling by you as Eto checked your pulse and eyes with her flashlight.

“She's alright, just shock,” she announced.

“Blake, what happened?”

“It recognized her, from my head. It knew she knows Spider-Man, decided she'd be a better host, and I lost control of it-”

“Venom can access the host's memories,” Eto explained, crouched in front of you. You were still kneeling, both hands now braced on your thighs and you stared at the mat where Venom had landed after jumping off of you. “What did it offer you?”

“It wanted to help me get to Spider-Man,” you whispered, voice surprisingly hoarse. “It offered to help me take him down...” You swallowed, clearing your throat. “It just wanted Spider-Man.”

“Jimmy, take Blake to put that thing away. I need to make sure Y/n's alright,” Eto helped you to your feet. “I told you, bad idea,” she hissed at Dr. Schmidt.

“I admit, it got a little out of hand. You were right, maybe we shouldn't have.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she snapped, guiding you out of the training room behind Blake and Jimmy, your eyes on the tube with Venom inside.

Eto took you to her lab, hooking you up to machines to make sure you were physically unharmed. Dr. Schmidt did not join you. After a good hour, Eto stopped, looking up from her tablet.

“Well, it looks like you'll be fine, just shaken up a bit. How are you feeling?”

“It was a bit surreal,” you admitted. “I'll get over it, just processing... It showed me my face.”

“Your face?” Eto's gaze bore into you.

“I think of the moment it recognized me, before it started chasing.”

Eto nodded, and looked away as her tablet beeped. “If you're feeling up for it, Mr. Adams would like to see you as soon as possible.”

“I remember where his office is,” you said, hopping down from the table you were seated on. “See you soon, Eto.”

“Rest up, Y/n. Good luck with Mr. Adams.”

You waved goodbye and made your way to the elevator and then off to Mr. Adams office.

His same blonde secretary let you in with hardly so much as a glance in your direction, and you stepped into the soft gray office, closing the door behind you.

“Miss Y/l/n! So wonderful to see you again!” Mr. Adams was pouring himself a drink of water by a wooden cabinet against the left wall. “How has our best gifted junior agent been?”

“Good, thank you, sir.”

“Oh, don't be so stiff! Water? That training looked rough today,” he chattered, pouring you a glass and handing it over on his way to sit at his desk. You remained standing.

“You saw it?”

“Yes, yes I did. I haven't seen Venom so determined in quite a bit.”

“That's what they said to me, too.”

“Tell me, did Venom offer you anything?”

“It, uh... It offered to help me get Spider-Man.”

“Hm.”

Your heartbeat was starting to calm from the initial anxiety of seeing Mr. Adams for the first time since the incident with your ribs.

“And how is that going?”

“I think I've come up with a plan to get him into a trap, with Green Goblin's help.”

“Ah, yes? And how is that?”

“Well, yesterday I had an interview with Tony Stark, and Spider-Man was in his office-”

“What?” He interrupted, cold and sharp.

“They were discussing teaming up to deal with Black Light, and I think Tony Stark has taken a liking to me, so I was thinking...”

Mr. Adams listened attentively as you explained the details of your plan.

“And before that whole thing with Venom, I was thinking we could use it to help—help kill him, but now I'm not so sure how smart that would be.”

“I think it's very smart,” Mr. Adams said, leaning back in his seat, grin wide. “I think your idea is positively genius. When were you planning on setting it into action?”

“Well, I figured it might be more effective if I spent a bit more time around Stark, maybe try and get to be his friend so I can be better fake bait-”

“He's got plenty of friends, Y/l/n. But you know what he doesn't have? A family.”

You paused. “Are you suggesting I act like his family, sir? That might take more time, to get that close-”

“No need to actually get close. Just spark that feeling, treat him ever so slightly like he could be the father figure you've never had, get him attached, even just a little bit. There's no way he won't bring along Spider-Man to help him save someone who reminds him of family. What was Spider-Man like when you weren't in your suit?”

“Ah... He was a bit flirtatious, sir.”

“If you meet him out of your suit again, play that up. There's nothing better to bait a hero than a damsel in distress.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now go home, rest up. We'll contact you if anybody is sticking their nose in our business, but for now I just want you training and getting close to Stark.”

With that, you were dismissed and sent in a car back home. After showering and eating a good and hearty big meal, you were finishing tidying your room when Peter texted you.

_Party tonight, Harry's, wanna go?_

You closed your closet, stashing the box of Black Light gear on the upper shelf.

_When?_

_9_

_I'm in_

_I have to be at Aunt May's until later, meet u there?_

_Sounds good_

You locked your phone and tossed it back onto your bed, opening your closet again to find clothes appropriate for a Harry Osborn party.

“Y/n! Are you home?! Because HOLY SHIT!” Came Stacy's ecstatic voice accompanied by the slam of the front door.

“In here!” You yelled.

“Holy shit! Guess what!” Stacy threw open your door, a tabloid paper in her hands.

You groaned. “Alright, who hooked up with who now?”

“According to this, you and Tony freaking Stark!”

“Wait, _what?!_ ” You snatched the paper out of her hands. On the cover was a tearful minor celebrity, and in a small circle in the corner, an event photo of Tony Stark winking at the camera with the clearly baiting line 'Seen having lunch with a young mystery woman! Who is she?! Pg. 4'

“I know you'd _never_ cheat on Peter, but oh my god, you're in a gossip magazine!”

You flipped open the pages to page four, to find a collage of photos taken at a distance of you and Stark at lunch from the day before. “What the hell,” you said, scanning the article. “'Infamous womanizer Tony Stark seems to have fallen back into his old ways. Friday afternoon he was seen canoodling with this unidentified _young arm candy_ over a romantic Italian dinner?!' What kind of bullshit—It was a job interview!”

Stacy was laughing so hard she could barely open her eyes. “Keep reading, keep reading!”

You scoffed. “I think I've seen enough, thanks. He's old enough to be my dad! Or uncle!”

“I can't believe it, you're in the Daily Bugle! This is the best day of my life! I'm framing it and hanging this in the kitchen,” Stacy left your room.

“Stace, don't you need the paper if you're going to actually hang it?” You called after her, still holding it.

“No need! I bought multiple copies!”

You groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN thank you all for sticking around for my sporadic updates and leaving comments because even though I never reply they make my freakin day every time!!! I'm going to try to be more regular about updates though definitely it won't be more than once a week usually. I'm thinking Sundays?
> 
> ps forever ago I deleted my tumblr sideblog where I was also posting this because I just never actually posted it there and I realized I never said anything about it, but I have a NEW sideblog where you guys can hmu at if you have any questions or want to just interact and tbh I'm considering taking requests?? Maybe???? Sooo if you like the sound of that go hmu @leafdream on tumblr


	14. Festivities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost entirely fluff, and I actually had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoy. I tried to write it ambiguously so that you can fill in the blanks of reader's background related to Christmas since I know a lot of people don't celebrate it (I'm not crazy about it myself), but I figured Peter does and that he'd want to celebrate it with the people he loves, or, yknow, whatever. Plus I'm trying to keep the timeline consistent for whatever reason

You took the subway to Harry's area. A cab would've cost quadruple the amount and just as long with the Saturday night traffic to take you all the way. It let you out on the other side of the neighborhood, and you began the trek to Harry's penthouse. Never before had you wished more that flying or teleporting was one of your powers. Of course, stamina wasn't the problem for you, you'd somehow gained even more during your weeks of intense training with A.I.M. It was the cold wind that was bothering you. You could tell that soon, maybe not tonight, but soon enough, it would start snowing.

Head down and hands in your pockets, you trudged forward. You could see Harry's building just a few blocks away, and just ahead there was a shortcut, an alleyway—you glanced around to check that nobody was following you, and turned down the alley, squeezing past a dumpster, careful not to touch the brick wall, shiny with an unknown substance. The alley was empty, aside from the litter and damp cardboard boxes. And it was warmer, the wind turning into just a gentle breeze between the tall close walls. You emerged on the other side, one block closer already. You decided to keep with the alleys and get there sooner, and keep avoiding the wind.

Jogging across the empty street, you entered the next alley, and strode quickly through. You were passing a second dumpster, when a rustling sound caught your ear, and you whipped your head around just in time to get hit across the face and shoved back against the wall by a young white man a year or two your junior, scraggly mustache in need of a shave.

“What's in the pur-?”

You were already shifting into position to strike back, when he was yanked off of you by a long, white cord.

“What the-?!” He fell backwards onto his ass, landing in a puddle, and Spider-Man dropped from above, jumping forward and webbing the young man up.

You jumped forward, away from the alley wall, and straightened your coat. Spider-Man turned around, leaving the young man on the ground.

“Are you okay?” He stepped forward, voice a bit anxious. “Your cheek-”

“What?”

Spider-Man gestured at your face, stepping forward. “Can I see?”

You raised your hand to your face and winced at the cut on your cheekbone. “Ah, fuck. Is it bleeding?”

Spider-Man gently touched your face and turned your head to the side. “Ah, just a little. It looks okay. Gonna bruise, for sure though.” He dropped his hands to his sides, and stepped back from you. “I gotta go drop this guy off, are you gonna be okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Thanks.”

He nodded. “Will you stick on the main streets for me?”

You nodded again, looking at him. There was something so familiar... You chalked it up to having fought him a handful of times before.

“I'll see ya 'round, Spidey.”

He picked up the man and shot a web up high. “Stay safe. Stay out of any alleys for me, no matter how creepy and fun they look!” And then he swung away, the webbed up mugger's muffled screaming disappearing quickly.

The wind numbed your now throbbing cheek the rest of the way to Harry's building. The doorman recognizing you as 'Parker's young lady' and letting you in straight away. You kept your cheek covered with your hand, pretending it was because of the cold. In the elevator you loosened your scarf and took off your hat, tidying yourself up in the mirrored walls of the elevator. It slowed and stopped with a gentle lurch and cheerful ding, the doors opening into a small hallway, the door at one end leading to Harry's penthouse, the other to the stairs. You could already hear the music through the walls. Harry had apparently even hired a butler to let guests in.

“Hello, miss,” the man greeted you.

“Hi, I'm here for Harry's party.”

“Very good, name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n, I'm with his best friend Peter-”

“Parker, ah yes. You've beat him here.” A pause, as he eyed your cheek. “That looks fresh, would you care for an icepack?”

“I can find one inside, thank you.”

“Should I call the authorities for you miss, to-?”

“Spider-Man took care of it.”

“Very good. Please enjoy the party, Miss Y/l/n.” He bowed and opened the door for you, closing it behind you once you were inside.

You hadn't ever seen Harry's place when it was in party mode. The lights were half-dimmed, the music was loud, and Harry had hired a bartender to man his kitchen. You blinked as a light flashed across your eyes—was that seriously a disco ball?

A woman took your coat, hat, and scarf for you and disappeared down the hall and you promptly squeezed your way to the kitchen.

“What can I get for ya, little lady there?”

“An icepack from Harry's freezer, please. And just a soda for now.”

“Ah, yeah, that's a fresh one there innit? How'd you get that?”

“Mugger on the way over.”

“You don't look too frazzled, took care of him yerself didja?”

You grinned in response as he handed over an electric blue ice-cold packet of frozen gel. “Thanks. I'll be back for a real drink in a bit.” You slipped away from the kitchen and off to the side, scanning the room for Harry as you held the icepack to your cheek.

Finally you found him, coming in from his large balcony, laughing with a drink in hand. He closed the door behind him, and mingled for a few minutes before he spotted you. You saw his enthusiastic welcoming grin transform the second he saw your icepack and he wormed his way over.

“What the hell happened?”

“Some tool tried to jump me on my way over, but I'm fine. I'm just waiting for Peter to get here to drink so he's not left out.”

“Thank fuck, I thought maybe you got beat on the job again. Glad you're okay, but Peter's gonna flip his lid. Good luck getting five seconds away from him after he gets here,” he laughed, you smiled. “He's running late, huh?”

You shrugged, nodding. “I guess he was visiting his Aunt May today or something.”

Harry nodded. “Come on, I'll introduce you to—Ahh, speak of the devil!” He opened his arms up to receive a hug from someone approaching from behind your left shoulder. You turned, and saw Peter unbuttoning his black coat with a grin on his face as he approached the two of you. He gave Harry a warm hug and pat on the back.

“Hey, man, sorry I'm late,” Peter let go of Harry and turned to you. “Hey, I'm so—oh my god, Y/n what happened? Are you okay?!” Peter took your face in his hands and gently pulled away the icepack from your cheek to see it for himself.

“Just bad luck on the way over, I'm fine, Peter,” you tried to smile reassuringly. “I promise, it's not that bad.”

“What happened?”

“Some dumbass tried to jump me, it was my bad, I took a shortcut through an alley without checking around me. I promise, I'm fine-”

“Did you call the police?”

“Didn't have to, Spider-Man was there.”

“Wh—Spider-Man?”

“He took care of it, I'm fine. He even checked to make sure I wasn't hurt bad before he left.”

“Harry, you still have the first aid kit in your bathroom, right?” Peter had an arm around you, and he turned to Harry.

“Yeah. Same spot in the cabinet.” Harry was frowning, tense.

“C'mon Y/n, let's go clean that up and put something on it before we get shitfaced,” Peter squeezed his arm around you softly and grinned.

“Alright, sounds good,” you laughed, letting him steer you down the hallway, leaving Harry with the party.

Peter seated you on the edge of Harry's massive tub and dug out the first aid kit from a tall cabinet standing in the corner. He placed the box on the marble counter by the sink and got out a handful of small things. You watched him wash his hands and then carefully rip open a little square and take out a damp sterilizing cloth. He turned towards you and crouched in front of you. You silently lowered the icepack and held it in your lap, watching Peter's eyes as he tenderly dabbed the cloth along the cut and then wiped the now dry small smear of blood from your cheek. You only slightly winced. His eyes flicked to yours and he smiled widely as he stood up and went back to the counter to get a small bottle of salve.

“What are you staring at me like that for?”

“Nothing,” you tried not to grin back at him.

“Nothing?” He teased.

“You're just cute when you concentrate, is all,” you smiled as he knelt down to dab a tiny bit of salve onto the cut with his middle finger.

“Stop staring Y/n, you're giving me performance anxiety.”

You laughed. “Like you ever have that problem, you love the attention.”

He chuckled, returning back to the first aid kit. “I'm gonna use a butterfly closure for your cheek, I think it's too close to your eye for a bandaid to be comfortable. It'll be kinda awkward getting it on there.”

“Okay.”

“How does the rest of your cheek feel? Bruising yet?”

“It's sore, but not bruise-y.”

He nodded, opening something and dropping the wrapper on the ground. “Alright, turn your cheek towards the light so I can see it properly and get this thing on there,” he kneeled down, tapping your chin. “Up just a little—perfect.”

You could see the back of his head in the full mirror across from you, and his fingers carefully pinching the small cut shut and placing the little white strip over it.

“Hey, Peter?” You swallowed, nervous.

“All done.” He patted your knee, but didn't move away from you. “What's up?”

You turned and looked at him straight in his eyes.

“What? Are you oka-?”

“I love you too, Peter.”

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours, and his mouth split into the biggest grin you'd ever seen on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

One hand gently resting on your knee and with the other he cupped the hurt side of your face, he leaned closer. “Yeah?”

“Now you're just teasing me, Peter!”

He laughed. “I love you too, Y/n.”

You grinned and mockingly replied with a sarcastic “Yeah?”

“Oh, my god, stop it,” he laughed and kissed you firmly. You could feel him trying not to smile. He pulled away. “I'll clean up all the wrappers, and then let's go have some celebratory drinks, yeah?”

“That sounds great. I'll put the kit away.”

You put the kit back on the shelf as Peter grabbed all of the wrappers and put them in the trash. You opened the door to go back out, but he grabbed your arm and stole a long kiss before you could leave. You laughed, and hand in his, dragged him back out to the party.

“There you two are! Come on, you need to have some drinks!” Harry found the two of you almost immediately and pushed you both over to the kitchen. “Bartender! My good man, get these two the most delicious, strongest drinks you can! They've got catching up to do!” Harry clapped a hand on your shoulder and his other on Peter's. “I want Peter so drunk that he gives Y/n a lap dance in front of the whole party!”

Peter laughed. “Harry, that's not gonna happen-”

“Not even for me, Peter?” You couldn't help but laugh at the image of your dorky boyfriend trying to give a lap dance.

“Well, maybe for you,” he admitted, squeezing your hand and pulling you closer to his side.

“Here ya are, two very strong but delicious drinks for Harry's best pals,” the bartender announced, placing two dark colored carbonated and vaguely red drinks on the kitchen island in front of the three of you. “Refill on yours, Harry?”

“Yessir, keep it comin'!”

You picked up your drink, and took a sip. “Holy shit, that's delicious! What's in this?”

Peter sipped his. “No idea! Cheers,” he clinked his against your glass and pulled you out to the party to dance.

Harry kept pumping the two of you full of drinks. Even with all the dancing and spinning and laughing, Peter never once let go of your hand.

Except to give you a lap dance.

Sunday found you and Peter both nursing hangovers in Harry's penthouse, where you had apparently stayed the night in one of the guest rooms together. You woke in bed with Peter, neither of you wearing much clothes, and grimaced upon becoming aware of the taste of your mouth.

“Oh, my god. That's fucking gross,” you sat up groaning heavily with your eyes squeezed shut. “I haven't been that drunk in a while.”

“Shhhhh.....” Peter buried his face in his pillow, arm waiving in your general direction, fingertips grazing your bare back. “No talking. It's quiet time.”

“I'm getting some mouthwash and some food. Are these party sunglasses?” You picked up a bright yellow pair of knock-off Ray Ban's off the floor, putting them on. “Much better. It's fucking bright.” You looked around, stumbling slightly. “Peter, where's my clothes?”

Peter just groaned into his pillow, pulling the blanket up further over his head.

“Fine, 'm going out in your shirt. I'll be back,” you slipped his dark gray henley on over your head. Peter being taller than you, it just barely covered your rear. Too hungover to care much about modesty, you wandered out of the guest room and into the living room of the penthouse, which was surprisingly already clean.

“Looking good, Y/n,” Harry called over from his seat on the couch, teasing you with a friendly voice. “Real classy look you got going on.”

“Shut up, Harry,” you stopped in the doorway. “What time is it?”

“I'd say about-” he paused to look at his watch. “Seven thirty-five. I've been watching the sunrise.”

You lifted the sunglasses slightly to look at the color of the light, a deep fiery orange filling the room. “Is it like this every day?” You let the sunglasses fall back down to cover your eyes.

“Sunny ones, yeah. Bloody Mary?” He gestured at the kitchen, where a tray of deep red juicy drinks sat with green veggie-looking kebabs across the tops of the cups.

“Yes, please.” You walked over, taking two. “Please tell me you got a video of Peter dancing last night,” you said, sipping one of the drinks and walking back towards the hallway.

“Please say you didn't,” came Peter's dreary hungover voice as he entered the room, shirtless but wearing his pants. “Why is it so earlyyy? And why is everything so much right now?”

You handed him a drink. “Because you're hungover and the world is conspiring to make you suffer. Drink up.”

Peter grimaced, taking a big drink from his cup. “Tasty. Harry, can I borrow a shirt?”

“Yeah, go crazy.”

The three of you spent Sunday morning lounging around Harry's penthouse, even eating lunch in the hot-tub on the balcony. Harry sent the two of you home around four in his private car, and you just slept the afternoon away at your place, waking up around sunset and just cuddling on the couch and watching movies until dinner.

“Y/n what's this up here?” You heard Peter call, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“What's what?” You got up and came into the kitchen, to find Peter looking at a picture frame of-

“Oh my god. I thought she was joking! I can't believe she hung that trash up-”

“I didn't know you were dating Tony Stark on the side,” he elbowed you playfully, teasing. “Honey, I'm so proud of you for aiming high!”

“Stuff it, Peter,” you playfully shoved him away, laughing.

“So you finally had a job interview, huh?” He nodded his head at the picture. “You going back for another one, or did you already get it?”

“I got it!” You grinned, bouncing slightly. “We negotiated details over food, I got the job!”

Peter gave you a big one armed hug, his other hand full of hangover tea. “That's amazing!”

The future was looking good.

* * *

 

The next few weeks were consumed with work and the holiday season coming up. Even if you weren't much of a celebrator of anything, you still had to deal with the whole rest of the city falling into a strange frenzy over gifts and carols and decorations. You had almost no time to yourself, but even so, you were floating on cloud nine. You were in love with Peter, you had started a new job at Stark Industries working directly under Tony Stark himself, and you hadn't needed to do any work as Black Light since the whole exploding cargo boat incident.

And then it was two days before Christmas. Stacy was out of town, Peter was staying at your place, and he wanted you to meet his Aunt May. Apparently Christmas was a big deal in Peter's family, and Peter didn't want his Aunt May spending it alone, so you agreed to participate and go meet her, even though you'd never really celebrated the holiday growing up.

“I swear, Y/n, she's gonna love you,” he called from his spot in the living room while you put the finishing touches on your appearance in the bathroom mirror. The cut from your alley-way run-in had faded into a thin, small paler-than-you line that shone when light hit it at just the right angle. Another month and it would be nearly invisible to anyone not looking for it.

“So you've said, Peter, but what if-”

“Stop stressing! She'll just be glad I'm finally bringing someone by that isn't Harry.”

“Gah, fine, you're probably right.” You exited the bathroom. “Ready to go?”

Peter sat up from his spot lounging on the couch, where he had just been throwing something into the air and then catching it. His hair stuck up in the back, and he grinned. “Yup.”

You shrugged on your coat and watched as he did the same. “C'mere, you've got a little bit sticking up in the back-”

“Hm?” He reached back absentmindedly, a vague deer-in-headlights expression on his face.

“Wrong spot, just let me do it,” you laughed, smoothing his ruffled hair down. He kissed your cheek in thanks and grabbed the paper bag of presents off the dining table, following you out the door and waiting while you locked it behind you. “And Harry said he was lending us a car?”

“Yup. He knows how expensive rates get around the holidays, so he wanted to do me a favor.”

“That's pretty nice of him. Driver and all?”

Peter pulled his hand out of his pocket, beaming, and revealed a set of keys.

“I didn't know you had a license!”

“Had to get one a while back because Harry decided to do this whole thing with race cars—I'll tell you all about it on the drive.” Peter pocketed the keys and took your hand, pulling you into the elevator.

Peter was a surprisingly good driver for a kid who grew up in the city. Not a single detail escaped him, he broke absolutely zero rules, and never went too fast of too slow. And he talked and teased and joked with you the whole way to his Aunt's house all the way across the city.

Aunt May still lived in Peter's childhood home, you learned on the way over. And you were surprised to see that it was an actual suburban-esque two-story house. The house was simple, the small yard and rooftop covered in snow. The front windows were lined with string lights, with paper snowflakes taped to the glass.

“I like your Aunt's decorations,” you said, closing the car door behind you and adjusting the bag of presents in your arms.

“Good, because I helped put them up,” Peter smiled at you over the top of the car, closing his own door. “Ready?”

“I'm ready.” And you followed Peter up to the front door.

He rapped his knuckles on the door, smiling at you, and then the door swung open moments later to reveal a thin older woman, much shorter than Peter, with gray hair and wearing a white knit sweater decorated with two large wooden buttons by the neck.

“Peter!” Her face lit up brighter than a firework. “Was that you parking out front? I thought you'd be coming in a cab! Come in, come in!”

Peter stepped in, giving May a quick hug, you following through the door close behind him.

“And this must be the young lady who's stolen my nephew's heart,” she said, closing the door behind the two of you. “Let me get a look at you!”

“Hi, I'm Y/n-”

Peter stood behind you as Aunt may approached you, hands on her hips. “Well you certainly are pretty, isn't she Peter?” She tilted her head up, and cocked it to the side as if by doing so she could judge your character. “And look at those eyes! I can tell you're smart. Peter needs smart.”

“Aunt May, come on-” Peter was getting embarrassed, and then you realized Aunt May was doing this just to mess with him.

Aunt May's face spread into a broad grin, smile lines deepening. “Tell me Y/n, how many times have you had to stop Peter here from doing something stupid so far?”

“None, really, I think he's still trying to impress me.”

Peter groaned, taking the bag of presents from you. “Oh, here we go-”

“Peter, when you were in school you would be gone all hours of the night, God knows where-” Peter wandered away into the house, Aunt May in tow, you bringing up the rear and giggling at the comical sight. “For a time your Uncle Ben and I were worried you were getting into drugs! Of course, we should have realized you were so much of a bookworm that you were too _busy_ for such things, but—Oh, Y/n, if you'd like to take off your coat you can hang it in the front hallway by the door—honestly Peter, I still don't know what you were doing out so much!”

“It was just absentminded teenage boy stuff, Aunt May, I promise. I never got into any trouble! Come on, I know you made a ton of food, what do you need me to bring out and set up?”

You turned back around, shrugging off your coat and hanging it up in the hallway on a hook along with your scarf and hat. Peter appeared beside you to hang up his.

“So you were a troublemaker in school, huh?”

“Oh, not you too!” He gave you a quick kiss. “Aunt May you've gone and given Y/n the idea that I was some kind of troublemaking bad-boy! What if she doesn't like me now because she's not into bad-boys?”

You followed him back into the living room, teasing. “Actually, I almost exclusively liked bad-boys before I met you.”

“Y/n, you're killing me here.” Peter said dramatically, taking both of your hands in his and adopting a dramatic sort of hunched over pleading posture.

Aunt May laughed.

You spent the whole day at Peter's childhood home, listening to Aunt May tell stories about younger Peter and drinking eggnog, eating lunch and then an astonishingly delicious dinner before bed.

You had honestly never been happier.

The next morning you woke up in Peter's old bedroom, the morning light outside soft and dulled by the gray sky and thick falling snow. It was exactly what you'd expect—movie posters for various obscure sci-fi flicks, odd gadgets scattered about, etc. You had to lay half on top of him to fit into his old bed, but neither of you were going to complain. Peter was still asleep on his back, mouth open slightly, one arm wrapped around you under the comforter, the other across his stomach. You shifted, trying to get a better angle to look at him and maintain your comfort level.

“Mm... Hey,” came Peter's quiet voice still thick with sleep. “Where ya goin'?”

You smiled. “Nowhere, just trying to get a better look at you,” you propped your chin up on the knuckles of your fist.

“Alright now I know I'm pretty but don't go pulling a _Twilight_ on me,” he chuckled and reached out to stroke your arm mindlessly. “What time is it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees and reached over Peter to check your phones, both plugged into the wall and resting on his old nightstand. “About nine twenty-eight A.M.,” you announced, pushing back from the nightstand into a sitting position by Peter's torso on the small mattress.

“Aunt May's probably already got breakfast made, we should go downstairs,” Peter stretched and sat up, pulling you towards him. “I apologize in advance.”

“I thought you said she was a great cook-”

Peter interrupted you with a thorough yet lazy kiss.

“I was talking about my morning breath,” he laughed as you wrinkled your nose. “Let's get dressed.”

The two of you dressed and made your way down the stairs and into the kitchen where Aunt May had made breakfast, different things set out on plates so you could all help yourselves. You and Aunt May sat at the table long after food was finished while Peter tidied up some of the plates and disappeared into the house somewhere with a vague explanation of fixing things. Aunt May quizzed you about how Peter was doing and what your plans were after school, you told her that Peter seemed to be doing really well and that the both of you had jobs with Tony Stark's company. She was impressed.

You learned a bit about Aunt May as well, what raising Peter was like, how much he changed and then subsequently grew after his Uncle Ben's death. And then, in classic girlfriend-meeting-the-family fashion, she brought out the picture albums.

“I didn't realize Peter used to wear glasses, he's so cute!”

You fawned with Aunt May over the pictures of younger Peter, a gangly kid with braces and glasses. He was all elbows and skinny limbs, and he only got skinnier as he grew taller. And then suddenly in the middle of what looked like his second year of high-school, he lost his glasses and filled out, now in the pictures was a tall lean and fit young man with what you thought in your head looked like the physique of a young superhero.

“Aunt May, no! I can't believe you're showing her those-”

“Oh shush! It's tradition. I'll be sent to the jail for terrible aunts if I don't show her your childhood photos!”

You laughed, flipping through. Here and there, pictures of Peter with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, and then a picture of Aunt May standing next to Peter, both wearing black and sad and serious. Uncle Ben's memorial leaflet on the reverse side of the page. You looked up at Peter, who just came and sat next to you, putting an arm around your shoulders.  
You turned the pages, there seemed to be about a year's worth of no significant photos, there was a yearbook photo of Peter and a picture of him with Aunt May at a science fair thing, and then the pictures started to pick up again. Birthdays, holidays, yearbook, prom-

“Ooh, who's the redhead?” You teased, grinning. Peter was in a suit, sleek and fitted and perfect. Likely Harry's doing, you decided. He was with an absolutely gorgeous redhead, sparkling eyes, flawless makeup, flawless skin, not a blemish in sight.

He paused for a moment. “That's, uh, that's M.J.--Mary Jane Watson,” he added quickly.

“I almost forgot about Mary Jane!” Aunt May interjected. “She used to live next door, very sweet girl.”

“She's gorgeous,” you smiled and then looked at Peter. “What happened with her?”

“We uh... Got together around senior year, I'd liked her for a while-”

“A while? Ha! Peter here was pining after her for years on and off,” Aunt May laughed.

“She moved away to be an actress or something. We didn't want to do the whole long-distance thing so we broke it off and then just sort of drifted apart, and then I met... Then I started college and met Gwen.”

You took Peter's hand and squeezed it gently, he held on tightly.

Aunt May gently took the photo album from your lap. “Well, I guess that's enough of that. Peter, why don't you show Y/n around the neighborhood?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already a third of the way through the next part, so expect the next chapter by next Sunday! Also, I started writing a second Marvel reader insert fic, and the first chapter is posted if you're curious


	15. Christmas, A Kidnapping, And A Business Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a bit of a crazy week for me so I hope you all can forgive the style of this chapter, as it hops from scene to scene a bit more than the others. Things will be back on track next time
> 
> Anyway, I promised this'd be here by Sunday and now Sunday is here, so I hope you all enjoy!

Peter showed you around the neighborhood, the two of you bundled up against the cold of the snow. He showed you where M.J. his high-school sweetheart had lived, just down the street. The house of his high-school bully, a guy named 'Flash,' who lived halfway between his house and the school. Various other neighborhood landmarks were shown to you with appropriate levels of ironic dramaticism, including his old school, a multiple storied building with a football field next to it, and a library on the other side.

The rest of Christmas Eve was spent in the living room, board games and TV and eggnog and candycanes keeping the three of you busy, until dinner, and then bed, where you and Peter spent the night completely occupied by each other under the lazy prompting of spiked eggnog.

The next morning was spent, finally, exchanging gifts.

Peter gave his aunt a Christmas-y sweater that said _World's Most Badass Aunt_ across the front. You got her a book of adventurous recipes that Peter had helped pick out. May gave Peter a handmade scarf and a pair of Uncle Ben's cufflinks, and a matching scarf for you.

For Peter you had gotten him an autographed book by one of his favorite scientists, tickets to a planetarium show hidden inside the cover, and a watch. Classic, of course, and not too showy, but also with a few neat gadgets hidden inside that you'd built and added yourself, and an engraving on the back that said _To Peter, with love, from Y/n_. When you bought the watch you'd worried it was a bit too much for first holiday gifts together, and you weren't really in the habit of buying things for people even semi-anually unless it was birthday presents for Stacy.

Peter gave you almost comically similar presents. A newly released book you'd been dying to get your hands on, tickets to a big science fair, and last but certainly not least, a small moonstone necklace with a delicate white-gold chain. He put it on you himself while Aunt May was in the other room refilling eggnog. You decided you were never going to take it off, no matter what.

That night Aunt May insisted the two of you stay over once more in Peter's old room.

The next morning you both spent a ridiculous amount of time just sharing lazy kisses in bed, before finally wandering downstairs for coffee.

“Peter, do you have time to stay for breakfast before you go?” Aunt May asked, sitting with the two of you in the living room sipping her coffee in Uncle Ben's old armchair.  
Peter nodded. “I think so. I fixed that leak in the basement you called me about a while ago, and I fixed that thing in the washer that was making the loud banging sound and-”  
Aunt May grabbed his face tightly like one would a cute dog or cat. “Oh, Peter, you do so much for this old little lady,” and then she kissed the top of his head, Peter grinning sheepishly. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and then she let go and made her way into the kitchen. “I'm getting started on pancakes! Why don't you two make sure you have all your stuff packed so you don't have to do it after eating?”

Peter stood, pulling you to your feet, calling into the next room; “Okay Aunt May, we'll be upstairs!”

Peter kept hold of your hand on the way up the stairs, pausing at the top for a moment so you could walk next to him down the hallway.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Hm?” He looked at you, stopping so you could enter his room first, but you stopped in the doorway to his old bedroom and turned to face him, brushing a thumb over the back of his hand.

“Thank you for taking me here, to meet your Aunt May and do this whole family holiday with the two of you. I know Aunt May means a lot to you.” You leaned against the door frame.

Peter brushed back a small flyaway hair from your ear. “I wanted you two to meet, I figured the two of you would get along.”

You smiled.

“And you never talked about any other holiday plans, or family stuff, so-”

You looked away. Peter caught on and quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway, let's pack up real quick and go eat Aunt May's pancakes. She likes to put a lot of fruit in them, so they're best when they're hot.”

Packing was quick, the two of you making short work of your small suitcases, carefully tucking each of your gifts inside, leaving out your matching scarves from Aunt May to wear when you left.

Aunt May's pancakes were delicious, verging on euphoria inducing. Peter groaned loudly with his first bite, leaning his head back.

“Oh my god, Aunt May, I can't believe I've been living without these for so long!”

“Don't talk with your mouth full, Peter,” she scolded. “No matter how good the food is.”

You laughed at the exchange, melting a little bit more with each bite of pancake you took.

After breakfast, you and Peter helped with clean up, washing all the dishes so Aunt May wouldn't have to do it herself after you both left. You stayed downstairs with Aunt May while Peter went and collected your suitcases, loading them into the car.

“I'm so glad Peter brought you home, Y/n. I haven't seen him this happy with someone since-” She cut herself off.

You nodded. “Thank you so much for having me. Peter cares about you a lot, May.”

“I care about him a lot, too. We're all we have left, now. Family is important.”

You nodded, quiet.

“I can tell he really loves you, you know.”

You grinned. “I hope so, otherwise I'd just be some lovestruck idiot following him around.”

Peter came back in through the front door. “We're all packed up,” he announced, and he swooped in to hug Aunt May tightly. “Take care, Aunt May.”

You looked away, feeling like an intruder, fidgeting with your new scarf.

“You too, Peter. Stay out of trouble.”

“What, me? In trouble? Psssshhhhht, no way!” Peter let go of Aunt May.

She fixed him with a serious look. “I mean it, Peter.” She turned towards you, and grabbed you into a big hug. “Take care of Peter for me.”

“I promise,” you hugged her back, and then let go. “I'll do my best.”

“And Peter, take care of her too.”

“I promise, Aunt May.”

“Alright, kids, have a safe drive back! Bye, Y/n! I love you, Peter!”

“Bye Aunt May! I love you too!”

“Bye!” You waved, and then you were both in the car driving away.

* * *

 

You pulled off your goggles, dropping them onto the work station laden with scattered half assembled bits of tech, beaming, turning over the small device in your hands. It was no bigger than your thumb, the shining silver oval smooth like a worry stone. In the center, a black button.

“Professor, I finished it,” you announced, and she appeared on the opposite side of your work table.

“It's beautiful,” she breathed. “The pieces from the repurposed Stark tech, I assume?”

You nodded. “Turns out that thing I stole at the fundraiser after-party was useless on it's own, but I figured out how to turn it into this. Should pack a big enough punch to temporarily disable an Iron Man suit, if I did it right, and everything around it for at least thirty feet.” You placed it down in the center of an empty spot among the chaos of your station. “I don't know where to test it that's safe.”

“Well. Let's hope it works when you need it.”

* * *

 

If you'd thought Harry's place was wild at the last party, the only way to describe the New Year's party was just flat out Gatsby levels of extravagance.  
“Peter! Y/n! And this must be the famous Stacy, what an honor,” Harry led you to the drinks. “An hour and a half until countdown, I hope you're ready.” He punctuated his sentence by blowing into his party horn, the paper coil unrolling into your face with a loud honk. You batted it out of your face, laughing, and Harry threw it over his shoulder, laughing, as Peter handed you and Stacy your drinks.

Things had recently ended badly with Stacy's now ex, and you didn't miss the way she was eyeing Harry over her drink.

“Uh-uh, missy,” you pulled her away while Harry and Peter got their own drinks and started talking, loudly, about who knows what. “Don't even think about it.”

“Why, what's wrong with him?”

“His dad just died last summer, and he's still really raw about it,” you said. “Don't fuck around with that, he's a mess.”

Stacy looked back over at him. “He's pretty cute, though- Jeez, Y/n, don't give me that look!”

“Promise to be good,” you stuck out your pinky finger, and she hooked hers around yours with an eyeroll.

“Promise.”

Midnight came when you were dancing with Peter on the terrace among a crowd of strangers. Stacy was nearby with someone who thankfully was not Harry, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. Fireworks went off, filling the whole sky, as you and Peter kissed. It was romantic, you thought, as you grinned at each other and started dancing again. It was good.

* * *

 

“Why do you always try to ruin the fun?” You narrowly dodged a web, preforming an almost unnecessarily showy backflip.

“You call breaking into a _charity function_ to kidnap a _senator_ fun?!”

“Don't get your spandex in a twist, Bug Boy, I've always wanted to come to one of these, so what if I happen to be running an errand for work at the same time!”

You were standing on a long table, boots dirtying a yellow satin tablecloth. You were in the center, behind you was a pyramid of champagne glasses, and under your feet silver platters of appetizers. At the end of the table, standing on the floor like a civilized human being, was Spider-Man, knees bent as if ready to jump at you. Fat-cats and politicians with their wives ran, yelling and screaming like chickens, from the ballroom around you.

“Well, looks like you're going to be leaving the event empty handed.”

You looked back—the senator was gone from the stage. Dread filled your stomach. Mr. Adams had _specifically_ asked for you to capture the senator at the event. To send a message, he'd said. How were you to know that Spider-Man would appear within seconds of your grabbing the senator and royally fuck it all up for you?

“You have... You have no idea what-” You were cut off by a web landing on your leg. Spider-Man yanked, pulling your feet out from under you and you landed on your back with a heavy thud and a gasp on a plate of cheese. Suddenly Spider-Man was standing over you, webbing up your hands and yanking you up.

“I think your shenanigans have come to an end, young lady-”

“Oh my-- please be gentle, it's my first time-” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm, and then you kicked him in the gut with a glowing foot, launching him across the room. Your balance was off with your hands webbed together, and you fell backwards into the tower of full champagne glasses with a thunderous crash, topped off with a handful of screams as people jumped out of the way. Fists glowing you ripped them free from the web, clambering to your feet and looking around to find Spider-Man rising from a pile of broken chair. You turned, spotting the senator's face glancing back at you in the crowd. It wasn't too late, you could still fix this and avoid the wrath of Mr. Adams.

You jumped off the table, and focused your energy into your legs upon landing on the marble floor. You ran into the crowd, which scrambled to get out of your way. You shoved a few stragglers out of the way, and successfully grabbed the senator by the back of his jacket.

“Hello Senator, how's your evening?” You began dragging him back as he struggled. “Careful, don't want me to zap you now do you?”

“Stop!” Spider-Man yelled. “You don't need to-!”

But you were already zooming up and out through the broken glass ceiling the way you'd came on your newly upgraded grappling hook, Senator in your grasp. You were long gone by the time Spider-Man followed you out.

You never did find out what A.I.M. did with him.

* * *

 

“How are those arrows coming, Miss Ariana Grande?” Tony Stark's teasing voice announced his arrival into your office.

“Come on Tony, let me live. I didn't know you had surveillance in here,” you groaned, looking up. “I like a little music while I work, so what if I get a little into singing along?”

“Just don't quit your day job, sweetheart.” He picked up an arrow and examined the head.

“Here for anything specific, pops? Or just dropping by to say hi?”

“Don't call me that,” he pointed the arrow at you like a scolding finger. “And no, I'm just avoiding responsibilities.”

“Tony, you can't just hide from me when I'm trying to-”

“Let's not fight in front of the kid, Pepper,” Tony winked at you.

Pepper huffed, coming up next to Tony. “Hi, Y/n. Tony has you working on Clint's arrows again?”

“He wanted me to experiment with some new gadgets I had and see how I could incorporate them.”

“Well, keep up the good work.”

“Thanks. Good luck with Tony.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

You laughed. “Tony, from what Pepper's told me, trying to get business taken care of with you is like herding cats.”

“Rude. I'm a _pleasure_ and a delight to work with-”

“Tony, I really just need to talk to you about-”

Tony strolled quickly out of the office, a frustrated Pepper Potts chasing after him.

Working at the Stark—or was it the Avengers Tower now? In any case, you had been working at Tony Stark's tower for about two months now, and this was becoming a semi-regular occurrence. You'd be getting deep into working on whatever personal project or assignment you'd been given, and Tony would often just pop by to see what you were doing. Eventually, as he saw the quality and ingenuity of your work, he started to entrust you with relatively small Avengers-related projects. Working on Hawkeye's more complicated arrows was your new task, as Tony trusted you to get the more complicated mechanisms right without fail, and now was even asking you to come up with new gadgets.

You'd gotten on his good side quickly, apparently.

Work as Black Light had all but stopped, since the night you'd kidnapped a senator from a fundraiser, though training with A.I.M. had not eased up in any way, and only seemed to be getting more demanding. You hadn't engaged in sparring since the slightly upsetting experience with Venom, though you kept your skills sharp with Harry. Instead your team was focusing on your strength and agility via complicated workout routines and machinery. You could almost forget that everything was leading up to a showdown with Spider-Man, and likely Iron Man too, if you stuck to your plan. But, of course, you couldn't. How could anyone forget that they were getting ready to help kill a hero?

“Y/n? Hellooooo, earth to Y/n,” a voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You blinked, snapping out of it and looking towards the source of the interruption.

“Are you okay? Lately you've been... I dunno,” Stacy said, sitting down on the couch with you, pausing the movie on the TV. “You seem like you're dealing with something. Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No, no, it's fine. I'm just in a weird head space is all, it's not a big deal.”

“Everything good with Peter?”

You reached up to fidget with the necklace at your throat, the one from Peter. “Yeah, it's great,” you said, smiling. “Honestly, it's perfect.”

“Good, I'm glad to hear that. He really does seem like a great guy, Y/n.”

_Bzzt._

“He really is,” you said, picking up your phone off the coffee table.

_Be at A.I.M. HQ in an hour_

“What's up?” Stacy asked, nodding her chin at your phone.

You sighed. “I have to go into work. It's probably going to go late,” you said, rising from your spot on the couch and then making your way to your room.

“Is this Stark or the other one?”

“Other one. Surprisingly Stark seems to have some respect for my time off,” you called into the other room, pulling on your Black Light disguise under your regular clothes.  
“Make sure you bring a scarf, it just started snowing again,” came Stacy's reply accompanied by the movie starting up again on the TV. You waved her a distracted goodbye as you left out through the front door.

* * *

 

“We need you to accompany Mr. Adams on a business meeting as a body guard.”

“A business meeting? Don't you guys have actual professional _trained_ body guards?” You asked, putting heavy emphasis on the word 'trained.'

“Yes, Mr. Adams has professional body guards, who will be accompanying, but having you there is going to send the message we need,” replied the tall, thin blonde woman walking in front of you, tapping away on her tablet. You strode along behind her, boots silent while her impossibly high heels clicked on the tile with a pointed no-nonsense authority. “The clients he is meeting have no idea, as far as we know, that you work for us. Having you there makes the point that we are good at what we do, we know how to keep things confidential.”

“And I'm guessing also that A.I.M. isn't one to screw around.”

Sharp gray eyes cut into yours. “Yes. We don't 'screw around.'” She stopped to swipe her key-card across a reader, and the elevator doors slid open in front of you. Stepping inside after the woman, the doors slid shut with a calm hiss of air, and the elevator took you up to the roof where a gaggle of men in suits were waiting beside a helicopter, propeller spinning. They all stepped aside without question for the tall woman leading you, and only half of them stared at you.

“Right on time!” A cheerful Mr. Adams called out. “We're about to take off, please, hop on board.”

The blonde woman waited behind as one of the suits walked you and Mr. Adams to the helicopter, the wind threatening to knock all three of you over. You all three climbed on board, buckling up, and then the helicopter lifted off the ground. You closed your eyes under the lenses of your mask, not exactly eager to see where you were going.


	16. Looks Like a Floating Egg to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in as many days? Whaaaat?  
> This chapter is short but I wanted to share ASAP! Finally, THE PLOT PROGRESSES!
> 
> Translations can be found at the bottom of the page. I do not speak Russian, and used a translator (not Google) for any sentences you see in cyrillic

The sound of the propeller was dull through the large and clunky orange earmuffs on your head, like bass through walls. You weren't plugged in to whatever channel that allowed Mr. Adams and his associate—a man you'd never seen before—to talk to each other through the small mics that hovered beside their faces off of their own earmuffs, and you suspected that the rest of the muscle team wasn't either by the looks of boredom on their faces.

Slowly the city faded away, the soft glow of lights replaced by stars and hills, the occasional town passing by underneath in the distance. And then you were landing on cracked tarmac, pine trees surrounding the area, a dark square building peaking over the top of the treeline in the distance. The helicopter touched down with a surprisingly gentle thump, and then everyone was unbuckling and taking off their earmuffs as the sound died down, hopping down to the ground out of the open door. The three bodyguards exited first, followed by Mr. Adams and his associate. You unbuckled finally, hands shaky. You paused to check your belt, make sure everything was still in place, and disembarked as well.

About thirty feet away, Mr. Adams and his associate were shaking hands with a few men in suits. The night vision filter showed you that they were nearly as immaculately dressed as Mr. Adams, and quite serious, though enthusiastic. You couldn't hear what they were saying over the slow whoosh of the now quieting propellers above you, but you didn't miss the way that two of the four stopped and stared at you as you approached. For each of the four men there was an additional guard accompanying.

“Mr. Adams,” one of them said, clearly the highest ranking. “Вы не сообщите мне вы были в ... Одаренных прав с вами.”

“Она была с нами в течение некоторого времени. Господа, я хотел бы представить черный свет.” Mr. Adams replied, smiling broadly with cold eyes, gesturing at you as a presenter might gesture to a special guest mounting the stage.

You didn't know what they were saying, but you knew it was Eastern European, likely Russian. You stopped a few feet behind Mr. Adams, crossing your arms, feet shoulder width apart. _Power stance,_ you thought. _Don't let them see how freaked out you are right now._

Fortunately for you, the Russians looked impressed.

“I am impressed,” the leader confirmed, accent almost comically thick. “Big secret to keep, having your own hero to do your bidding.”

“Without secrets, we would be out of business, Mr. Kuznetsov,” Mr. Adams associate replied.

“How well put, Mr. Jones,” Kuznetsov replied.

“Я уверен, вы все жаждем видеть какие вы пришли все это путь для. Пожалуйста, таким образом.” Mr. Adams gestured towards the looming building just behind the tree line, and the group began walking along a small gravel road beside the landing strip, which then connected to a larger road and some sort of parking lot just around a cluster of trees. Everything was completely surrounded by tall chain link fences topped with barbed wire. You had a feeling it might be electric, as well. The gravel road led straight to the front of the large warehouse building, broad and flat in shape. There was a single large garage door on the face, along with a smaller set of double doors to the side. It was through these doors that your group went, three guards followed by Mr. Adams, Mr. Jones, Mr. Kuznetsov, and the three other unnamed Russians. Behind them was you, walking along in your heavy boots, arms clasped behind your back to hide your nervousness, and behind you the other four guards. It was quite the impressive parade.

Down a few hallways you went surrounded by the heavy thumping of boots and the soft tap of mens dress shoes underneath the conversation you couldn't understand. Kuznetsov seemed to be domination the Russian side of the dialogue, the others only speaking up once or twice total before you arrived at your destination, stopping before a pair of steel doors.

Вы не возражаете ужасно, если охранники держаться за пределами?” Mr. Jones turned towards Kuztnetsov, his tone polite but quite clear that there was only one correct answer.

Kuznetsov paused, only briefly, before turning towards his guards. “Остаться здесь.”

The four Russian guards saluted Kuznetsov and turned away from the door, as if taking up watch. Mr. Adams opened the door, and the six men stepped through. Mr. Jones gave you a look, as if to say 'Well? Are you coming?'

You quickly followed behind, hands still clasped firmly behind your back. The doors slid shut behind you.

You were in a large, but admittedly clean, concrete room. Suspended from the ceiling in the center was The Heart, now completed, from Noble's lab oh so long ago.

“Ah, Mr. Adams! Mr. Jones! How wonderful to see you,” called out a familiar voice. “I see our guests have arrived.” You looked towards the source to find Professor Noble, tablet in hand and white lab coat spreading behind her as she strode up to the group. She raised her eyebrows when she saw you. “And is this the infamous Black Light?”

“Yes, it is, Professor Noble. I would like to introduce you today to our guests...”

You tuned out the introductions carried out in English, both accented and otherwise, as you gazed up at The Heart. It's exposed wiry mass was no longer exposed and wiry, it's surface now covered in smooth silver plates. It no longer carried the shape of a heart, and now more closely resembled a giant silver egg, with a window on the bottom, facing the floor. Looking closer, you saw that the window was actually the windshield of a cockpit.

“Gentlemen, what you are looking at is the Mark One, all new all improved A.I.M. rendition of the Hydra-Bot. It has been my personal project for many years to construct a vehicle strong enough to withstand the collective power of the Avengers, and strong enough to take each of them down if put under control of a good enough pilot. It is fully submersion-capable, heat-resistant, pressure-resistant, and the hull can theoretically withstand the force of the Hulk himself. Though, being the Mark One and seeing as we have no Hulk to test it on, that is not yet a guarantee.”

You gazed in awe at the sleek silver mass before you, barely registering the impressed Russian muttering around you.

“But how does it move? The original Hydra-Bots had legs, this vehicle looks like a floating egg.”

Noble opened her mouth, but Mr. Adams interrupted. “Of course, we weren't expecting to have you sold right away. We will be having a demonstration, shortly, of the new _A.I.M._ -Bot's abilities.” Mr. Adams said, nodding at Noble who nodded back and scurried off. “If you gentlemen would be so good as to accompany me and Mr. Jones back outside?”

The group made it's way out back of the warehouse where a large training ground was spread out, with a few more buildings off to the side in the trees.

Professor Noble joined the group behind a large panel of bulletproof glass, speaking into a walkie-talkie.

“Audience ready behind shield, Mark One may enter the field, over.”

“Roger that, Mark One powered on and entering the field, over,” came a crackly voice through the black and yellow speaker on the walkie-talkie in Noble's hand.

All of you turned to look to the right as the sound of a large garage door sliding open echoed across the field, though you could see nothing past the glare of the floodlights. Suddenly, loud whirring and thumping, like a giant robotic beast with two many legs approached, and the Mark One A.I.M.-Bot appeared on the edge of the roof of the warehouse, and kept walking past the edge and down the wall with ease. Approaching the ground, the legs zoomed back into the body of the shell and it dropped at least twenty-five feet to the ground, rolling in a blur to the edge of the demonstration field. The legs reappeared, shooting out of the body of the shell and raising it from the ground.

“Beginning agility demonstration, over,” came the crackly voice, and the A.I.M.-Bot started running, jumping, and rolling with intense momentum across the field, dodging equipment and climbing walls with tremendous ease.

“Begin firepower demonstration, over,” Noble spoke into the walkie talkie. The A.I.M.-Bot, mid roll, immediately stopped in it's tracks without so much as a jolt, turning around to face a number of targets you had somehow missed at one end of the field.

The pilot began cycling through a number of weapons hidden inside the bot's smooth outer shell, starting with the smallest and building up to a rocket launcher.

“End firepower demonstration, over.”

“Roger that, over.”

“That's all?” One of the shorter Russians asked, incredulous.

“I cannot safely display the rest of the Mark One's abilities here, sir, without risking all of our lives and the entire compound,” Noble said back, a note of pride in her voice. “The Mark One A.I.M.-Bot has the destructive capabilities of at least three Iron Man suits, for perspective.”

“Where did you get the design for the tentacles?”

“I drew some inspiration from the recently departed Doctor Octavius, a dear friend of mine. His pioneer work developing an efficient and precise brain-computer interface is a large part of the basis for the piloting technique of Mark One. I made some improvements, of course, but the brain-computer interface is the main part of what makes the Mark One such an efficient and agile vehicle. The only function that must be carried out manually is the fire button.”

“У вас есть несколько действительно замечательных ученых на работу здесь, Mr. Adams,” Kuznetsov said, voice light with excitement. “Это будет большая честь для партнера с вашей организацией.”

The men all shook hands, and the Kuznetsov shook Noble's hand as well.

“Congratulations, Professor. You have just secured A.I.M. the allies of a lifetime,” Mr. Jones congratulated Noble, just as Mr. Adams and the Russians began to walk back to the warehouse after watching the A.I.M.-Bot climb back up the side of the warehouse and disappear.

Mr. Jones left to follow Mr. Adams and the Russians, but you lingered behind with Professor Noble for a minute, who was checking her tablet.

“Professor-”

“What did you think, Y/l/n?” She looked at you, glancing up.

“It came out amazing. This is why our lab sessions have barely been happening?”

She positively beamed. “Thank you. And yes, I'm sorry. Between teaching, and this... But you're quite busy yourself, I hear, what with this and your new job with Stark.” She paused, looking over your shoulder. “You'd better go catch up with those men, now. I trust that I'll see you soon, if not in person then surely on TV.”

You nodded. “Bye, Professor.”

She waved you off and you jogged quickly over the pavement to the back of the group. The next few hours were spent in a conference room, Mr. Adams and the Russians drinking and presumably working out a deal while you stood menacingly in the corner, though you weren't sure. You didn't speak Russian.

* * *

 

“Again.” Barked the voice over the speakers.

You stood, panting, in the center of the training room, and began the drill over again, mind wandering as your muscle memory carried you through the movements. Punching, turning, kicking, jabbing with elbows. Secretly you imagined that you looked like an earthbender from _Avatar: The Last Airbender,_ as you cycled yet again through the same series of blunt and powerful movements. You pretended that you weren't actually practicing moves to use on Iron Man, your new boss that you were secretly growing fond of. _The whole trick Tony Stark into developing a familial soft-spot for you in order to bait him later if need be_ plan was starting to backfire, as much as you hated to admit it, you started to see him as a bit of a father figure. That was something you'd never had. You seemed to feel guiltier about your duplicitous plot than Harry, who had known Tony Stark much longer than you. Though, of course, you shouldn't be surprised, as the outcome of everything was far more personal for Harry than it was for you, in a way. Harry actually wanted Spider-Man dead, you just wanted to take down Spider-Man in order to keep Stacy, and especially Peter, safe from harm.

“If we're going to let you train with Venom, you need to drill everything so deep that you have to make an effort to even fuck it up. Again.” Came the voice of your new martial arts trainer.

You took a deep measured breath, spinning around and punching a fist through the air, beginning the drill again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Вы не сообщите мне вы были в ... Одаренных прав с вами. You did not tell me you had a... gifted human with you.
> 
> 2\. Она была с нами в течение некоторого времени. Господа, я хотел бы представить черный свет. She has been working with us for some time. Gentlemen, I would like to introduce Black Light.
> 
> 3\. Я уверен, вы все жаждем видеть какие вы пришли все это путь для. Пожалуйста, таким образом. I am sure you are all eager to see what you came all this way for. Please, this way.
> 
> 4\. Вы не возражаете ужасно, если охранники держаться за пределами? Do you mind terribly if the guards stay outside?
> 
> 5\. Остаться здесь. Stay here.
> 
> 6\. У вас есть несколько действительно замечательных ученых на работу здесь. You have some truly remarkable scientists at work here.
> 
> 7\. Это будет большая честь для партнера с вашей организацией. It would be an honor to partner with your organization.


	17. Heart to Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm so sorry for such a long wait AGAIN! Ugh, the only thing worse than writers block is shitty internet, am I right or am I right?
> 
> After this chapter, I'm predicting just two or three more before the whole story is totally complete, so I wanna thank everybody for reading and commenting and leaving kudos and all that good stuff, and an extra thanks to everyone who's stayed since the beginning.

“Okay, what's wrong?”

You were jolted out of your thinking by Peter, who was sitting on your bed while you sat at your desk a short distance away. He closed his textbook with a thump, tossing it away to the foot of your bed.

“What?” You asked, jerking your gaze up from your laptop to look at him.

“What's wrong? You've been seeming off lately, and you're always busy, and whenever you think I'm not looking you look like you're thinking about something terrible.”

You sighed, averting your gaze while you turned your chair towards him, trying to come up with something that wasn't 'Oh I'm just part of a secret evil organization that I regret joining but I can't leave or they'll kill you and Stacy and also they want me to kill Spider-Man and attempt to take down Iron Man with the help of your best friend who I turned into an evil super-villain.'

So, instead of telling the truth, you brought up something that was bothering you, but wasn't the real source of your distress.

“I dropped out of school.”

Peter's face went through a range of emotions. Most of them shock and confusion.

“You what? I thought you said you just switched around your schedule so you could work more-”

“I had kind of a—a breakdown after the whole ribs incident-” Technically true, though he didn't need to know it involved your reckless and thorough destruction of a cargo ship on live TV.

“Why didn't you talk to me about it?”

“I was overwhelmed, Pete. I wasn't totally myself, and I—you know me, I like to keep things to myself, mostly.”

Peter scooted off your bed and came over to you, bending down to wrap his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest, hugging back. “You can always talk to me about anything, Y/n. I love you, it's what I'm here for.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I just want you to be safe and okay.”

You took a deep breath. “I know, Pete. Thank you.”

* * *

 

“I think you should let me try to work with Venom.”

Eto looked up from her tablet at you jogging on the treadmill, hooked up to various wires and monitors.

“What?”

“I think you should let me train with Venom again,” you said plainly, looking her in the eye.

“Absolutely not, last time Venom overtook you within minutes-”

“I don't mean fight Venom. I want to wear it.”

Dead silence while she gaped at you. “Are you insane? Why?”

“There's no way I'm going to be able to beat Spider-Man and Iron Man as Black Light, even with Green Goblin's help. I'm going to need something extra. I think Venom is that something extra, if I can learn how to work with it.”

“There's no way-”

“I think Mr. Adams would agree with me.”

“Would agree with what?” Dr. Schmidt said, entering the room.

“I want to learn how to wear Venom so I can use it to kill Spider-Man and take down Iron Man. I can't do it with just Green Goblin's help.”

Dr. Schmidt looked thoughtful. Seriously, he said, “And you think you can handle it?”

“I think I don't have a choice, and it might be different if it's deliberate as opposed to Venom just trying to take over in a fight against me.”

Dr. Schmidt shrugged. “It's worth a try.”

Eto threw her hands up in exasperation. “It's not safe for her-”

“With all due respect, Dr. Eto, our job isn't keeping Black Light safe, as much as I'd like it to be. Our job is to make Black Light the most efficient living weapon we can.”

“I'm ready to try it on any time,” you piped up.

Back in the training room later that day, you did your stretches, watching Venom shifting in it's container, running over the basics again in your head.

“Ready, Black Light?” Came the voice of Eto over the speaker as you finished your warm ups.

“Ready,” you said.

“To open the container, you need to firmly grasp the handle on the end and push it inwards.”

You stepped up to the container, doing as Eto instructed.

“As you're pushing the lid inwards, squeeze the handle and turn it counterclockwise, then pull the lid fast when you hear the click and it should open.”

You slowly turned the lid counterclockwise, squeezing the trigger under the handle. There was a soft click and you pulled the lid with a jerk, and with a hiss it opened.

“When you're ready, put your hand in for Venom to attach to.”

You stilled, watching the shifting mass of black at the bottom of the glass tube as it started to reach towards the opening. Slowly, you stretched out your hand, and touched it, and then the whole thing surged forward, knocking you backwards a few steps. It swarmed over your body, and your vision went black. Your body felt suspended in a salt-water pool, and the touch of Venom was slightly cool. Your muscles tensed as your body automatically tried to fight it off, but you breathed deeply and relaxed.

And then Venom, now settled around you, spoke.

“Ssssssssspider-Man, help kill him, and set you free, if you take me from here... I'll help you get away too, escape Mr. Adamsss...” Venom spoke inside your head, voice gravelly and full of hissing static.

“You have to help me get Iron Man too,” you managed to spit out. “Practice teamwork with me first, so I know you won't just take over...” Sensation began to return to your limbs, you no longer felt weightless, instead you just felt strong. Venom wasn't trying to take control anymore, it was trying to cooperate. You heard a roar, and a laugh, and half registered it was coming from you and Venom. “Show me what we can do.”

* * *

 

“So how's work going? I feel like we haven't gotten to hang out in a while,” Stacy said, plopping down onto the couch with you.

“Work's good,” you said. “Having Tony Stark as a boss is pretty crazy,” you reached into a small box on the table. “What color do you want?”

“Classic red, of course,” Stacy said, and you pulled out a bottle of crimson nail polish, shaking it, and began painting her nails. “And how's Peter?”

You grinned. “He's amazing. Kind of stressed since he's almost completely done with school, but I know he's gonna be fine. I never see him at work, even though we're doing the same stuff basically, but I think that's probably best.”

“Ever make out at work?”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Aw, come on, that's so boring! If you work at the same place you should make out in a supply closet at least once. You guys are so boring, you never do anything crazy and you never have any drama,” she teased you, but really you knew this was her way of praising your surprisingly healthy relationship.

“What about you? How's everything going?” You asked, bent over her hand, careful not to get any polish on her skin.

“Things are really good, actually,” and then she began catching you up on her life. You listened happily to her stories about her work, the guy she was still seeing, and the last conversation she had with her brother, wishing that your life was still so simple.

“Alright, your turn! What color do you want?” She asked, checking to make sure her nails were dry.

* * *

 

You always thought it was kind of ridiculous and dramatic when shows had heroes standing on rooftops gazing into the distance whenever they were thinking about their problems. So despite your general anxiety and dread, you couldn't help but laugh at yourself as you perched on top of the skeleton of a tower currently under construction. The city scape glittered below you, and the stars sparkled faintly above, washed out by the yellow city lights. Dangling your feet over the edge of a steel beam, you watched the night pass by below. What could you do?

“What's a mysterious hooded figure like you doing in a creepy place like this?”

Startled, you whipped your head around, finding none other than Spider-Man.

You sighed, and put on your fake accent. “I'm off duty, Spider-Man. Can we not do the whole fighting thing right this minute?” You turned your back to him, and nearly fell off your perch in surprise when he sat down next to you, just outside of reach.

“What's troubling you?”

You stared at him.

“What?”

“Oh come on, Spidey. Are you really going to try to turn me from my evil ways with a heart-to-heart at a construction site?”

“Just trying to make conversation, get to know the baddie I've been fighting,” he shrugged, swinging his dangling legs like a kid in a seat too high for them.

“Gee, I'd almost rather do the fighting thing.”

The two of you sat in awkward silence. You were growing tenser by the second.

“I don't like things the way they are,” you blurted.

Spider-Man turned his head to look at you.

“I don't like where I am, who I answer to.”

“You work for someone?”

You nodded.

“Who? Maybe I can-”

“No. Trust me. They're big. I'm only still there because they threatened P- they threatened my boyfriend and my best friend. I mean, I'm not exactly innocent, I started out as a pretty impressive thief and all. But I never really hurt people, or at least I didn't go out of my way to hurt people. And now,” you let out an exhausted laugh, “And now, I've created a new Green Goblin, they want me to kill my boss at my day job- and-”

“Who's your boss?”

“Nuh-uh. No way I'm telling you, you're gonna try to find who I am.”

“I promise I won't. But maybe, if I know who the boss is, I can do something so you don't have to kill him. Black Light, please—let me help.”

You rolled your eyes under your mask, sighing. Suddenly you were hit by an idea. “I won't tell you who it is, but—what if I give you a piece of information? Something super-duper extremely top secret?” Your masked eyes met his.

“What is it?” He leaned forward.

“They have a robot. It's crazy high-tech, massive firepower.”

“What kind of robot?”

“Uh, well, did you ever see _The Incredibles_?”

“Uhhhh, yeah?”

“It's like the weird white one that the crazy fanboy has, but with more legs and scarier.”

Spider-Man sat silently. “Are you pulling my web?”

“No! I'm serious. I think they want to use it against the Avengers, I was at the demo and they kept saying stuff like 'Hulk resistant,' and 'more firepower than the Iron Man suit.' I think it's got tech straight from Doctor Octopus. Look, Bug Brain, believe me or not, I'm risking everything even just telling you about it!”

“Okay, okay, I believe you! I believe you.” He sat, contemplating for a moment.

You carefully rose to your feet, the thin floor creaking under you and the plastic sheets rustling in the open air. Spider-Man looked up at you.

“Look, Spider-Man... I want you to know it's business as usual after this, okay? I'm still gonna be with Green Goblin trying to kick your ass and doing damage all over town. It's not personal, it's just my job.”

Spider-Man stood, facing you, and you paused. You wondered if you should just tell him everything, that Green Goblin was Harry Osborn and wanted him dead and you were going to help kill him, that A.I.M. was behind _everything_ and wanted him dead as well, and Tony Stark too. What if you just took off your hood and your mask right there and left it all up to Spider-Man to take care of? You stared at him as he stood there, silent and surprisingly accepting of your roles.

“Oh, and one more thing,” you blurted, interrupting the moment. “If you can find Daredevil, he might be able to give you more info. I've had some run ins with him.” Before Spider-Man could say anything, you stepped forward, touched his arm in thanks, and then jumped from the building with your grappling hook.

* * *

 

Your day job, meanwhile, continued to be a complete dream. Stark gave you complete freedom to work on your own ideas and projects, and so you did, keeping only the most questionable designs hidden away in your second lab with Professor Noble. Occasionally he'd have you work on small assignments, fine-tuning Hawkeye's new arrow gadgets, once you even got to meet Black Widow herself and help Tony fix up her new toys. It was hard to tell if she liked you or not. But then again, she was Russian.

The day after your late-night chat with Spider-Man you were called into Tony Stark's office.

“Ah, Y/n, you remember Spider-Man,” Tony said when you walked in.

Just like the day of your interview, you were surprised by Spider-Man's presence in Tony's office.

“Long time no see,” you greeted him. “How's it swingin'?”

Spider-Man nodded a hello in return.

“Spidey here just dropped by to tell me about a conversation he had last night with Black Light.”

You were pretty sure you visibly paled. Had you let something slip in your talk that gave you away? Your mind raced over the conversation, trying to thing of anything that might have let him know who you were.

“What ab- what was it about?”

“Turns out Black Light works for somebody, and that somebody has built a secret weapon. She described it as-”

“The white leggy robot from Incredibles but scarier. To summarize.”

“So I want your help trying to maybe figure out what it might be able to do, and what it's got.” Tony waved you over to his desk, and the three of you got to work. You were only somewhat distracted by the presence of Spider-Man. Mostly because in the back of your mind you kept thinking about the fights you've been in and how you might have to try to kill him, but also because this was the longest you'd been around him where you weren't trying to knock each other out, and you were able to appreciate his shape, to put it politely. You wondered if maybe you had a type, because he was so similar to Peter in size and build.

“So, depending on the size of the—cockpit, I guess we can call it—it could have all sorts of gadgets inside.”

“Black Light said it was supposed to be Hulk resistant, so I'm guessing on the bigger size. She also said it had some crazy firepower.”

You nodded. “Okay, so, I think if I was going to design this with the Hulk in mind, I'd make it pretty damn big. And let's face it, nobody so far has figured out how to compress impressive firepower into smaller containers like Tony here-”

“That's a given.”

“-So, we'd have to add even more size to accommodate for whatever they decided to put in there. Plus life support and the general tech they might have in there to keep it functioning, and who knows how much space that actually takes up. How many legs did she say it has...?”

* * *

 

“Y/n, we need to make a move. I can't stand waiting anymore. We have to finish this.”

You were walking home after a long day at work, the last few days having been dedicated to figuring out the A.I.M. robot that Spider-Man was calling Leggy-Eggy, when Harry called you.

You took a deep breath. “I know, Harry, I just need more time to make sure I can actually fight them with-”

“We both know you're strong enough and smart enough to take them, especially with the extra help from me and Venom. Stop doubting yourself.”

You looked up at the ceiling of the subway, as if imploring some greater power to give you a way out. “Okay. You're right. How soon?”

“This week. I can't wait any longer, I'm losing my mind. I need to get it done so I can move on with my life.” You could tell from his voice he'd been drinking.

“Okay, I'm going to go by the office and see when I can check out the, uh, extra guy. I'll call you after.”

The secret A.I.M. lair was dead quiet when you arrived. The secretary let you in with only as much as a glance, and you made your way to Dr. Schmidt's office. He turned around in his wheeled office chair when you entered.

“Ah, Black Light! What a surprise, what brings you here on your night off?”

“I need to know when I can take Venom with me. We're going to go through with it as soon as possible.”

Dr. Schmidt took off his glasses and tapped them against his thigh. “Well... You two have a surprisingly functional dynamic, and you've done exceptionally in all of your training... I'd have to check with the Venom guys that actually take care of it, but I'd say as soon as tomorrow.”

“Will you call me as soon as you know?”

Dr Schmidt nodded. “I will.”

You thanked him and left the office, passing Eto on the way out. She didn't say anything, and neither did you, but she had a look in her eye when you locked gazes and nodded in passing that was all too familiar lately when you looked in the mirror.

Regret.


	18. Unmasked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I really hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. I know it's been a long wait (again) but the end is here. After this chapter, there's just one more to wrap it all up. Thank you to everyone who's stuck this far, and to everyone who's left kudos, and every single person that's left a comment on this story. Forgive me for any spelling errors, I've been working on this for so long I just can't look at it any more.

You woke the next day, after sleeping in, to a phone call from Harry. Realization that you never called him back last night hit you as you read the caller ID and you scrambled to unplug your phone from the charger and answer the call.

“Hey, Harry—I'm so sorry I forgot to call back last night, I passed out as soon as I got home-”

“You're alright though? And you checked about Venom?” Came Harry's tired voice through the other end. Actually, it wasn't so much tired as it was worn.

“Yeah, my guy said he'd call me today as soon as he talked to the handlers, I guess that's what they're called? Anyway, he's gonna call today and let me know when I can pick it up.” Your heart was thudding in your chest, and you tried to calm down, taking deep breaths as you clenched your sheets with the phone at your ear. You realized that now the time was coming, that this was really really going to happen, you were scared.

“Great. I'm hanging out with Pete today, so just text me instead of calling when you find out.”

“Right. Cool,” you said, breathing slowly out through your nose. “See ya.”

“Bye, Y/n. Thank you, again, for helping me do this.”

“What are friends for?”

After you got off the phone with Harry, you decided to start your day with an at-home spa session. Of course, you would have liked to just soak in a nice bubble bath but you were stuck with just a small shower stall, despite Stacy's brother's remodeling skills. So you set about your routine, beginning with a shower and ending with an expensive face-mask you'd been saving, re-painting your nails while you drank a smoothie (which might or might not have had a bit of alcohol in it) and watched some good old fashioned Hulu shows. You thought that if you were going to kill a guy in the next few days you might as well be put together. And, likely, it wouldn't be for a few more days, right?

As you sipped your smoothie, letting your nails dry, your phone rang with a call from Dr. Schmidt.

“Hello?”

“Black Light, this is Dr. Schmidt.”

You swallowed. “Oh, hey, what's the word on how soon we can check Venom out from the secret weapon library?” You tried to joke to cover up your anxiety, though it was now mostly subdued.

“Today, actually, would be ideal. If it works for you.”

Your mouth was suddenly dry. “Oh, uh, yeah, sure. I'll be by tonight to pick it up, how's that work?”

“Perfect. Don't want it just sitting around your apartment until later, do we?”

You forced a nervous laugh. “No, I don't think so. Thanks, Dr. Schmidt. I'll see you later.”

“Bye, Y/n.” He hung up.

Surprisingly calm, you stayed on the couch while you finished your smoothie and the episode you were watching. Nails dry, you went to take off your face mask and then finished your at home spa-session. As soon as you were done, you texted Harry.

_Project finale tonight._

* * *

 

When you went by A.I.M. around seven, just as the sun was preparing to set, you were surprised to be greeted by Mr. Adams. You hadn't seen him since the meeting with the Russians and the A.I.M.-Bot, the one Spider-Man called Leggy-Eggy.

“Black Light, hello!”

“Mr. Adams, it's been a bit.”

“Oh, yes, I've been away in Russia, had a few meetings with the President, very important things. I hear you're checking Venom out for use tonight?”

You nodded.

“I take it you're still sticking to the plan you originally told me, however?”

“Yes, sir. Just with the added help of Venom.”

“Very good, very good!” His eyes glittered with more enthusiasm than you'd seen before. “Well, I'm off to another meeting, but I'll be keeping my eye on the news tonight. Good luck, Black Light. You know what happens if you fail.”

You swallowed, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

And then suddenly, as if in a haze, you were leaving the A.I.M. base with the metal canister of Venom in your messenger bag along with your Black Light disguise. You were meeting Harry at his place, apparently Peter had left early for some emergency errand. Which worked out perfectly, because you were ahead of schedule anyway and unsure of what to do.

* * *

 

“Okay, but where do we do the whole thing?”

“I know a place,” you said, sitting on the couch and opening your bag. “Big ass construction building near the park.” You pulled out the container of Venom, setting the huge canister down on Harry Osborn's coffee table with a clink and a loud dramatic thud.

“What the fuck, that's Venom? I didn't realize that's what it looked like when it's...”

“Flying solo?” You said dryly. “Yeah. I need to tell you what to do in case it takes me over.”

“What?!”

“I mean, we get along really great and I've pretty much got control, but that's in training situations. I just wanna take precautions.”

“Okay...”

“It doesn't like fire. Or loud noises. That's pretty much it.”

“So if it takes over, set you on fire?”

“Or you could use the floodlights on your hover thingy and blast sirens at it. Jeez, dude,” you laughed. “You got the camera?”

“Check. And the... I know you said rope, but I just thought chains would be more-”

You waved Harry off. “Chains work too. We just need to make the damsel in distress thing realistic.”

* * *

 

Tony Stark was watching the opening monologue of that weekend's Saturday Night Live, laughing in his tower, when his broadcast was suddenly interrupted. The screen went fuzzy, there was a loud beep, and then suddenly the mask of the Green Goblin was filling the screen, as if he was just turning on the camera.

“Ahehehehhh, there weee gooo!” The voice under the helmet-mask was distorted, high and scratchy like a Halloween voice filter. Tony put down his drink, the laugh gone from his face. “Hellooo, New York! I'm sure enough of you know who I am, so I'm going to cut to the chase. This message is for Spider-Man and Tony Stark, since you two seem to be suuuch good friends.” Green Goblin backed away from the camera, revealing the scene behind him.

“Shit,” Tony swore. "Jarvis, call Spidey."

* * *

 

Spider-Man was eating pizza on a billboard downtown, mask pulled half-up over his face. Needless to say, the pizza was instantly forgotten when all of the digital billboards were replaced with live footage from the Green Goblin, and Spider-Man was on his feet the second Green Goblin stepped aside from the camera to reveal you in the background, chained to a steel beam in an abandoned construction site with metallic green tape over your mouth, seemingly unconscious. The camera shifted as Green Goblin picked up the camera and moved closer.

“Here we have a darling Stark employee. One of the Iron Man's favorites, I hear, if the fact she's been allowed to work on Avengers gadgets means anything. Must be attached, huh Tony?” The camera zoomed in on your chains, and then spun around to show Green Goblin's mask. “And we all know Spider-Man can't resist saving a pretty girl, either.”  
Spider-Man then realized his watch was ringing. He pressed a button, answering the call.

“Spidey, you seeing this?”

“Yeah, Tony. This ain't good.”

“I'm suiting up, we're gonna go get her.”

“So why don't you two come get her from me and my friend?” There was a flicker and hum of indigo light in the background, the light Spider-Man was all too familiar with. “You remember where you two had your little heart-to-heart, Spidey?” And then the feed cut.

“This is bad, Tony, real bad,” Spider-Man was starting to panic.

“Send me the location, I'll meet you there. It's gonna be okay, kid.”

“I shoulda just told her, Tony, then she'd be safe-”

“Kid, I said it's gonna be okay.”

* * *

 

“Man, I wish we'd had more time so we could like, overlay images of me as Black Light in the background or something, I can't believe I missed out on the threatening part,” you sighed, clipping your mask in place, and kicking the chains with a rattle. “That's most of what I do as Black Light. Did I ever tell you about the time I threw a chair in a politician's office? I think he peed himself a little.”

“Nah, but you're gonna have to tell me another time. Put your accent on, they'll be here any second.” Harry was impatient, wired and ready to go. This was the night he'd been waiting for for so long.

“I'm going deeper in the building with Venom, where it's darker,” you said, picking up the container. Harry just nodded, turning his gaze out to keep watch. “And remember, if they start demanding to know where I am—and I mean regular me, not Black Light—just say it was fake and I'm at home in bed or something, okay?”

“Got it.”

You looked at Harry's tense back for a moment, and then carrying Venom, headed into the shadows to wait.

You didn't have to wait long, however. Iron Man was the first to arrive, landing on the top of the towering skeleton of a building.

“Goblin, where are you?” Demanded the cold filtered voice of Tony Stark, surprisingly calm. “I got the invite, I'm here.”

“Iron Man! What an honor!” You heard the altered voice of Harry—no, this was barely Harry, this was the Goblin—carry down to your hiding place. You were surprisingly calm, all of your senses clear and alert, listening for Spider-Man as you knelt by the Venom canister.

“Where is-”

Your eavesdropping was interrupted by a soft thump behind you. You glanced back through your hood. He couldn't see your mask.

“Spider-Man,” you acknowledged his presence.

“Where is she?” His voice was cold, shaking, furious. He meant you, regular Stark employee you.

“At home, asleep in bed.” You were watching him out of the corner of your eye through the special filter of your hood as you began to slowly open Venom's small glass prison, trying to glow as slowly as possible to minimize the sound of the pressurized air from the lid.

“What?”

“We put her back in bed, we're not complete monsters. Just needed a way to get you both here.” Apparently going slowly did nothing to quiet the pressurized air, it only drew the sound out longer.

“...What is that?”

“An old friend of yours,” you said, popping the lid off and sticking your hand into the container. Venom, eager, surged outwards and enveloped you, but you were ready this time after all the practice you'd had and barely stumbled.

“Tony, we've got a problem down here-” Spider-Man said into a communicator on his wrist as you felt Venom settle in on your frame, and you heard a hiss come from your mouth.

Above you, there was an explosion and the frame of the building shook slightly, loose dust falling from the plywood above you and the plastic sheets hanging around you rustled.

“Is she okay?!” You heard Tony's voice from Spider-Man's communicator.

“She's not here, it was faked. But Venom is.”

Letting loose a shrill scream, Venom launched you at Spider-Man with all of the force you collectively had, while from above you could hear the Goblin's cackle. Spider-Man just narrowly launched himself out of the way, landing in a roll and then popping back up to his feet as you swung your body sideways to face him, skidding to a stop. Venom barreled forward with no input from you, screaming again, claws out. Spider-Man shot a quick succession of webs at your face, covering your eyes and Venom's screaming mouth. Blind, you stumbled and paused to rip the webbing from your eyes and mouth with a giant clawed hand that was absolutely not yours. Vision now clear again, your head swung about, looking for the now vanished Spider-Man, who had run off and hidden from you when you were blinded. Venom let out a low hiss, and you spoke, still mostly in control.

“Sssssssspiiider-Man,” you called out, your voice sing song though distinctly more distorted with the influence of Venom. You began quietly searching, prowling the hollow and dark floor, Venom tasting the air with it's long tongue. It was a strange sensation, that was for sure, tasting the air with a tongue that both was and wasn't yours. “The Goblin wants you, Ssssssspider-Man, I'm just helping out a friend to get revenge, what's so bad about that?” You realized you were reassuring yourself out loud.

“You don't want to do this, Black Light,” came Spider-Man's hidden voice. You spun around, listening for where he might be. “I know there's still good in you, I know you're good inside!”

“Not enough,” you hissed. “It's mostly just caffeine at this point.” Venom hissed, loud and drawn out like an angry cat.

You could hear the fighting coming from the roof, Goblin's cackle and the whirr and subsequent blast of energy from the Iron Man suit every time Tony fired. You were straining your ears for any sound that might give away Spider-Man's location.

Suddenly he jumped out from behind a beam and a sheet, running and slinging webs, but you could read his plan easy, roaring and ripping through the webs with glowing indigo claws, chasing Spider-Man and his string of muffled swears. An idea struck you, and you stopped in your tracks under an opening in the floor, jumping up. Instead of chasing Spider-Man, you were going to make him chase you.

Clawing through a sheet of plywood, you burst through in a flurry of splinters and indigo light onto the rooftop, much to the joy of Goblin, who wouldn't stop cackling, and the great surprise of Iron Man, who let out a loud “Shit!” as he flew out of your way.

Venom let out a loud screaming roar, jumping into the air, grabbing Iron Man's foot, ripping him out of the air and throwing him down through the rooftop and about five more floors at least. You weren't sure, you weren't counting. Venom was starting to take over.

“Goblin! I'm losing contr-” You shrieked through Venom's control, but anything else you were going to say was drowned out into a snarling roar again as Spider-Man swung up over the edge of the building, landing with spread feet and fists ready to fight.

Goblin turned around on his hovercraft, crouching. “Well, well, well! If it isn't the bug of honor, the bug I was just dying to meet!”

Spider-Man dropped to a crouch, one hand on the floor and the other pointed out to the side ready to shoot a web at a moments notice.

“You need to get Venom off your friend before it kills her, Goblin,” Spider-Man said, shouting over the wind and the sound of the engines from Goblin's craft and the hissing from Venom.

Goblin glanced back at you over his shoulder. You felt a spark of hope. Then he looked away, and Venom hissed in satisfaction.

“She'll be fine, it's really you and me that need to-”

Suddenly Iron Man blasted through a second spot in the rooftop, in much the same way that you had only moments before, shooting two bright beams at you. Venom screamed, and you fell backwards over the edge of the roof, feeling Venom practically recoil and then slide off of your body. As you fell, you saw Iron Man fly into Green Goblin, the collision sending them both flying over the other side of the rooftop. You yelled, scrabbling for your grappling hook as you saw a smoky blob of Venom falling after you. Finally you found it, shooting it blindly, and you felt the jerk in your shoulder as it stopped your fall. Pressing a button on the side, it started to reel you up again, and it brought you to a floor five feet below the rooftop. You saw a giant gape in the floor as you went further into the building, looking for a safer way to climb up than the side of the building. Huh, guess it had been more than five after all. Using your own powers this time, you jumped through the hole above you, making your way back up.

Reaching the rooftop, you came face to face with Spider-Man, who whirled around on his heel to face you.

“Enjoying the view?” You asked, wondering where Iron Man and the Green Goblin had fallen.

“Where's Venom?”

“Gone. It was taking over, remind me to thank Stark for that.”

Spider-Man eyed you for a moment. “What is this? Why did you trick us here?”

“Goblin wants revenge, my boss thinks you're both obstacles.”

“A.I.M.,” Spider-Man said. “Daredevil told me there's a conspiracy-”

“I don't know the details of what they want, I'm just the coerced muscle, okay? I mean, I can guess, it's probably something classic like control of the world's governments or something-”

Suddenly Green Goblin reappeared, rising over the edge of the building behind Spider-Man. You heard someone yelling to duck as he opened fire, and realized it was you as you dropped down and rolled away, falling through one of the holes in the rooftop. You fell two floors and would have fallen further if you hadn't reached out and grabbed a jagged piece of broken wood.

You pulled yourself up and just as you got to your feet, there was a huge crash as something smashed through the rooftop—again—and plummeted past you to floors below. You recognized the green of Goblins suit and the roar of his hovercraft. You ran to the hole, looking down, and saw Green Goblin and Spider-Man fighting, then they moved out of your line of sight. Squeezing your eyes shut, taking a breath, you jumped and followed the newest hole Green Goblin had made. Landing in a crouch, you found Goblin throwing Spider-Man around like a rag doll.

“This is for my FATHER!” He bellowed, tossing Spider-Man against a steel beam. You watched, horrified, as he crumpled to the ground and struggled to rise again. Harry dismounted from his glider, practically sauntering up to Spider-Man, who was kneeling on his hands and feet. He kicked him in the stomach, knocking him backwards slightly and he collapsed again. Even from your distance you could hear him gasp for air as the wind was knocked out of him.

You were sneaking up behind Harry, still nearly twenty feet away when he grabbed Spider-Man by the neck, and flipped back the visor on his mask. “I want to see who you are,” he hissed, barely audible to you.

Spider-Man was gripping Harry's wrist, trying to pull off his hand, but you couldn't see either of their faces. “Harry—Harry don't-”

Harry squeezed tighter, cutting off his words. You needed to act fast, or you wouldn't be able to-

At that moment, Harry grabbed a fistful of Spider-Man's mask and yanked it off. There was a long moment of silence as you continued to sneak up behind him, now ten, eight feet away, when Harry stumbled back in shock.

“Y-you-”

You froze, seeing Spider-Man's unmasked face for the millionth time. Only, this time, you knew he was Spider-Man.

“Harry-” Peter pleaded, voice hoarse. “I'm sorry-”

“YOU WERE MY BEST FRIEND! HOW COULD YOU?!”

“It was an accident, I swear, Harry-”

You were frozen solid in your tracks. Peter, Spider-Man? How could you not have known? Were you that stupid? He didn't even change his voice, he was just Peter in a mask. A mask you'd been fighting and planning to kill for the last several months. Peter didn't seem to notice you, his bruising face was turned to Harry, eyes full of emotions.

Harry screamed and pulled out a knife that was strapped to his thigh. “LIAR!”

As Harry lunged for Peter, you snapped back into action, running for him. You jumped on his back, grabbing him in a headlock and shocking him with your gloves. He seized for a moment, and then he seemed to bounce back. “NO! No, Harry! You can't kill Peter!”

“GET OFF! HE KILLED MY FATHER! HE'S A LIAR!” Harry threw you over his shoulder, and you landed on your back with a gasp and a loud crack that you guess came from the floor.

Harry turned away from you, back to Peter, who was again struggling to rise to his feet. You swung your legs around, knocking Harry onto his back. He dropped the knife, and it clattered away, skidding across the floor past you. He yelled, tears of anger coming to his eyes, and rose to his feet, turning on you as you rose to your own, taking a defensive stance.

“He's your best friend, Harry!”

“He's a MURDERER!” He ran at you, tackling you around the middle, and the two of you fell with such force that you cracked the floor again. With glowing arms you blocked your face as he tried to attack you. Your muscle memory took over and you somehow threw him off, rolled over to your stomach, and began to rise, but Harry kicked you in the back, knocking you down. “I'm not going to let you take this from me! I've waited too long!” You gasped, painfully, for air, rolling to your side. Harry went to kick you again, but was knocked on his back by a flying web that hit him in the shoulder, throwing off his balance. Again, you started to rise with a groan. Harry wasn't having it, and lunged at you. You kicked him off clumsily, all your training flying out the window in your desperation.

“Black Light-!” Peter yelled, shooting a web that stuck Harry's left hand to the floor, and a second one seconds after that trapped his other hand as it reached for one of his tucked away weapons.

You rolled away, rising into a crouch as Harry yelled, ripping his hand free. You jumped onto his back for the second time in less than a few minutes, activating your gloves as you simultaneously grabbed the back of his helmet and his right arm, hoping to shock him unconscious like you did to Daredevil in your first fight as Black Light.

It didn't work. By some unfortunate happenstance, your gloves seemed to short circuit, or perhaps they couldn't shock him enough through his gear. In your shock, Harry shook you off, and now you were trapped under him again, his hand around your neck.

“Both of you LIARS! You were going to HELP ME!” Harry screamed, grabbing at your mask. You had one hand trying to pull him off your throat, the other trying to stop him from grabbing your mask. As soon as he had even a slight grip, a blur of red and blue came flying out of nowhere, tackling Harry off you. You gasped—seemed to be doing a lot of that lately—as the pressure left your throat, and your stomach lurched as your mask was torn off your face.

“No-!” You reached out, turning after them, as if you could snatch it out of Harry's hand and don it once again before Peter could see. Peter and Harry rolled, and you saw them break apart as they hit the floor, Peter quickly looking back to check on you, eyes finding yours, now visible without your mask. His eyes widened, mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Y/n-?”

“Look out-!” You yelled, and Peter successfully dodged Harry's enraged lunge with something akin to a pirouette. He stumbled past Peter, and then fell through one of the gaping holes in the floor made from earlier on in the fight.

You jumped to your feet, facing Peter. He faced you again, cradling his side and staring at you.

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “Peter, Peter are you okay-?”

His eyes flicked to something behind you, and he leaped forward, closing the gap, grabbing you in both his arms, and then threw the two of you to the side as the Green Goblin glider crashed into where the two of you had stood moments before and exploded on the spot. You and Peter shielded your faces, the blast knocking you several feet further while you were mid fall.

Peter groaned next to you on the floor, and you rolled onto your back with a heavy breath.

“Oh, god, Peter,” you sat up, and scooted towards him, hands fluttering over him. His face was distorted in a grimace. “You're gonna be okay, stay here. I'm going to check if Harry-”

“Behind you-” he gritted out, grabbing at your arm like a protective driver might when braking a moving car too suddenly.

Something hit the side of your head and you were knocked down. A fist grabbed the back of your hood, yanking your neck back. Your vision swam, but you heard a shocked inhale, not quite a gasp, and Peter's cracked voice-

“Y/n-!”

You were disoriented, but you felt yourself being dragged by your hood away from Peter, who was crying out but you couldn't tell what he was saying. You reached back to find the hand that was dragging you, but you couldn't get a good enough grip from the angle. Suddenly you were dropped, and you felt your arm flop over the edge of the building into cold open air. Your vision was clearing, and Harry was crouching over you, saying something, and you smelled burnt rubber from his costume, and blood, though you saw none on him.

“-Kill you both if I have t-”

Your feet connected with his chest and stomach, and you heaved him up, then over your head and out of the building into open air, letting out a burst of indigo energy to propel him further. He screamed, grabbing your arm and pulling you out with him—but you grabbed onto the edge of the building, and his grip on your other arm wasn't secure enough and he fell.

You hung there for a few long moments in the wind, the rain hitting your face. And then Peter appeared, peering down at you. Your vision now fully clear, you met his eyes. It felt like the two of you were trying to say everything with just a look, and your eyes were starting to tear up as you dangled from the outside of the building, a plastic sheet flapping above you both. Peter reached down and pulled you up, and you realized that long moment you'd gazed at each other had been merely a second as you collapsed breathing heavy and sitting a few feet from him, both unable to break eye contact or the overwhelming silence. The rain made hard pattering sounds on the torn plastic sheet beside you, and the wind started to flap it around like a sorcerer's cape. You couldn't take it, and looked away, trying to hide your welling tears, and reaching up to feel your head where Harry had hit you. When you pulled your glove away, you saw blood.

Peter sighed, cradling his ribs and letting his head fall back against a beam. “Guess I was right.”

You looked back up, puzzled, growing dizzy.

“There was some good in you, after all. You saved me.”

“It was selfish, Peter.” You barely whispered, voice cracking on his name.

Peter's voice softened. “I saw you. You were going to save me before you knew who I was.”

You had to wipe your eyes. “I'm so sorry-”

Suddenly Peter was at your side, crouching and holding you up. “Woah, Y/n- are you okay- shit, your head-”

You were struggling to keep your eyes open. “Pete-”

You briefly registered that he was trying to call Tony before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next and last chapter up very soon. And, if you celebrate it, I think today is Easter? So happy Easter, may your next week be filled with discount holiday candy.


	19. An Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you go ahead and read the last chapter, I want to say thank you to everyone for sticking through to the end of the story, especially if you made it here past my loooong waits between chapters while I was first writing the story.
> 
> Second, I apologize for any parts of the story forgotten in the wrap up or plot holes or if any part of this feels rushed, I rewrote it six times but each time it just dragged the story out in a direction I wasn't able to go, so here we are.
> 
> Last, a special shout-out to users 40212, lazykitsunechan, Matt_Murdock, and guests Megan and Rebecca for leaving comments throughout the whole drawn out process. Knowing you guys were sticking around for the ride is what really gave me the motivation to finish this.

You woke up in a white room in a hospital bed and surrounded by soft beeping. There was a soft pressure on your skull, like you were wearing a hat that was too tight. With your eyes closed against the bright light you raised a hand to feel your head—but you were stopped by the handcuffs that locked each arm to the rails on either side of you. Panicked, you struggled against your restraints, but to no avail. The monitors around you vocalized your panic with their beeping.

Suddenly a door opened and a man entered wearing a buttoned purple shirt.

“Y/n, I'm Doctor Banner. You're okay, the restraints are just a precaution, the others insisted.”

“Where am I?”

He approached the side of your bed closest to the monitors, moving softly but deliberately. “You're in an Avengers facility.”

“Why?”

He glanced at you, examining the monitors. “You sustained a head injury during a fight.”

You let your head fall back against your pillow.

“We won't know until we perform a more thorough assessment if there's any lasting damage. The physical damage didn't seem to be that serious, mostly blood loss and you'll probably have a scar at the site. I've called my friend, an ex neurosurgeon, to come and check you.”

“Ex neurosurgeon?”

“He didn't have his license taken away for being bad at his job, if that's what you're thinking. He was in an accident that affected his hands.”

“Well, I feel fine,” you stated. “Just hungry. How long was I out?”

“Only a day. I'll see if I can find something for you to eat, let the others know you pulled through.”

“Was there a chance I wouldn't?”

“I wasn't sure. They were worried.”

You nodded, closing your eyes. You heard the door close after him, and as exhausted as you were physically, you couldn't fall back asleep under the white lights and hunger rumbling in your stomach. So you sat, and waited, listening to the soft humming and beeping of the monitor. Realistically, it was probably only half of an hour, but it felt like half the day went by before Doctor Banner returned with another man by his side. The second man was tall with a thin face, dark hair, facial hair not unlike Tony Stark's, and a... Red cloak.

“Y/n, this is Doctor Strange. He's here to check up on you, make sure there was no lasting damage, all that,” Banner said, placing a tray on the stand beside your bed, adding, “We checked with Peter to see if you have dietary restrictions, so this should all be fine.”

You looked Doctor Strange up and down with sharp eyes, and then turned to see what was on the tray. “You look like a Hogwarts teacher.”

“Funny,” he said.

“I'll leave the two of you to your doctor-patient things,” Banner said, giving you a smile and nodding at Doctor Strange before leaving the room.

“So,” said the caped man left in the room, and you looked at him again. “I hear this isn't the first time you've sustained a head injury.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read up on your medical files,” he said. “Serious accident when you were fifteen, no parents, near total memory loss. And, nobody could find any record of your name so you were taken in at a boarding school.”

“Xavier's,” you said.

“For mutants?” He raised his eyebrow.

You nodded as much as you could. “Can I eat while we talk?”

Doctor Strange got up, and with a wave of his hand your handcuffs fell off. With slightly shaky hands, he opened a small fruit cup and handed it to you with a plastic spoon. “Eat slowly,” he said, and returned to a seat on the bed nearer your feet. “How are you feeling? Any loss of sensation, trouble moving?”

You shook your head, mouth full of plastic spoon, and wiggled your toes to demonstrate. “I feel how I normally feel after getting my ass handed to me,” you said. “Kinda light-headed, little extra tired. But I'm guessing that's normal, considering.”

He nodded. “I'm going to ask a series of questions, just to see if you have any brain damage, loss of cognitive function, all of that.”

You nodded.

“Clearly you know your name, but how old are you?”

“Twenty-four. I'm almost finished with my last years of school.”

“Where do you work?”

“Stark Industries, previously A.I.M....”

“What is the name of your best friend?”

You paused. “Stacy. Is she okay? A.I.M. said-”

“She's safe, Stark has taken care of everything.”

You nodded, and ate more of the fruit cup.

“What is the name of your boyfriend?”

You paused, looking down. “Peter. Peter Parker.”

He continued to ask a number of questions, until he stood.

“Well, thankfully there is no obvious brain damage or loss of function in communicating, and your memory seems just fine to me. I've been told you're a rather gifted engineer, so found some exercises for you to work on.” From somewhere under his cloak he pulled a notepad with a series of math problems and simple engineering puzzles.

At least, that's what you guessed it was. It would make sense if it were, but all you saw were meaningless scribbles and gibberish.

“Is this a joke?” You looked up at him, heart pounding.

“What's wrong?”

“This is gibberish,” you said, tossing the notebook away. “It's just wiggles and dots.”

“Miss Y/l/n,” he said, picking up the notepad, and turning it toward you. “This is a worksheet printout of a first grade math assignment from the internet.”

Your throat tightened, your eyes watered. “I can't read it.”

“Miss Y/l/n-”

“I can't read it. Why can't I read it?”

He sat back down on the side of your bed. “You were hit in the left side of your head. The left side of your brain controls logic and analysis,” he explained, clearly dumbing it down. “It also contains language. When you were hit, it must have damaged a very specific part of you that helps you interpret writing.” He scribbled something down. “You said you can't understand the numbers, but can you read what I just wrote down?” He turned the page towards you.

You shook your head.

“I'm sorry, Miss Y/l/n. As you heal, you may regain the ability to read, and to write, or you may need to relearn it. I can't say for sure. I know how upset-”

You tuned him out. You barely registered when he stopped talking and left the room, and finally, with your hunger sated by the small fruit cup, you fell back asleep.

* * *

 

When you woke again, you were still in the hospital bed, and Doctor Strange was gone, and Tony was in the room with Banner.

“-should be resting right now, not interrogated.”

“A.I.M. is an immediate threat, we need to ask her questions. Besides, Strange said she could communicate fine, I just need information and then she can rest all she wants.”

“Mr. Stark,” you said, voice thick with sleep.

Both men whipped their gazes to you. Banner opened his mouth to speak, but Tony cut him off, addressing you by your last name.

“Y/l/n. We need to ask you questions about A.I.M. Bruce here says you need to rest, but-”

“Who's 'we'?”

The door opened, and a woman with scarlet red hair entered.

“Ah, there you are Natasha,” Tony said with a tight smile.

You blinked hazily. You'd met her once or twice, but always in passing, and you'd always been wary.

“Nat here is going to ask some questions while you're hooked up to my new little lie detector.”

Bruce groaned. “I told you, Tony-”

“It's fine,” you said. “I can answer questions.”

“Great!” Said a falsely chipper Tony, who immediately set about hooking you up to a whole extra set of cords, as if the IV and the monitors weren't enough already. “Can we take off this gauze or will her brain fall out?” Tony asked Bruce, who replied with only a dry look. “Okay, fine,” Tony rolled his eyes and attached a few rubbery suction cups to the small part of your visible forehead. “So," Tony fixed his harsh gaze on you. “I know Peter said you were being blackmailed by A.I.M. But, honestly, I'd like to hear it all from you. Alright, Jarvis, roll cameras, record audio,” he said while typing something into the tablet he was holding, and then Natasha spoke up.

“What's my name?”

“Natasha,” you answered after a confused pause.

“Who is Tony to you?”

“My boss,” you swallowed at the guilty twinge in your gut.

He glanced at you. Apparently the twinge had shown up on his tablet, because he pushed. “Who am I to you?”

“My boss,” you repeated, eyes on small lump of your knees under the blanket. “Mentor, assassination target, role model.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” he said under his breath, though he sounded more surprised than anything else.

“Alright, what's your name?” Natasha asked, a hint of amusement under her cool facade.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You stated with confidence. “Alias Black Light.”

“Birthday?”

“I don't know. Everything on my legal records is fake.”

“You don't know your birthday?”

“I don't have any memories before I was fifteen. I woke up in the hospital with just an age and a name.”

A long pause. “Alright then. Let's get into the real questions.”

Natasha proceeded to grill you about every little detail involving your association with A.I.M. And then, suddenly, Tony started removing all the apparatus he'd attached to you.

“We're done?” You asked, startled.

“Yes.”

“Do I have to stay in here?” You asked, hopeful.

Natasha spoke again. “This is the safest place to put you right now. The news just broke about Osborne, and A.I.M. has to know you didn't finish your job. Plus, you still need medical care.”

“Are you putting me here as a criminal? Or a patient?” You swallowed. “Is Harry...?”

Tony interrupted you. “You're technically a criminal. Like it or not, you started with A.I.M. willingly, and that makes you a criminal in the eyes of the government. As for Harry, he'll be in the hospital even longer than you, but he'll make it. We're keeping an eye on him in case A.I.M. makes a move.” And then he shut the door behind himself. You looked at Natasha, relief washing over you at thee news that Harry was alive.

“I feel like I just got put on a timeout.”

“I don't know why,” she said. “But he sees you as his responsibility. Don't ask me to explain the inner workings of Stark,” she shrugged. “But, I think there's a fair chance you'll be let off the hook in exchange for some community service.” She made her way to the door, and then looked back at you. “Peter wants to see you. Feeling up for it?”

* * *

Another forty five minutes must have gone by before the door opened again. But this time, it was Peter. Dressed in a Stark logo hoodie and his favorite pants, he closed the door softly behind himself as he came in. You struggled to sit up further, eyes bouncing all over him.

He swallowed. “I heard-”

“I don't want to talk about it, not right now.”

He looked sad when he broke eye contact.

“I have a lot to explain. And I don't really know where to start,” you admitted.

Peter sighed and went towards you, sitting on the edge of your bed.

You both paused for another extended moment of silence. You sighed. “How did I not realize you were Spider-Man?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I don't know, but I'm impressed you went far enough to put on a fake accent. That's commitment.”

“I mean, seriously Pete. How did I not recognize your voice? It sounds the same, even if it's kinda blurred with the mask. You even smell the same-”

“You smelled Spider-Man?” He turned to look at you with an incredulous face.

“We got pretty close when we fought, Peter! I have a good sense of smell!”

“Like super-smell? Did that come with the glowing thing or nah?”

You looked away, towards the ceiling. “No, just regular good smell.”

He kept his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. “So. How did you become Black Light?”

You took a deep breath and then blew it out your nose slowly, thinking back. “I uh, I always had a bit of a rebellious criminal streak, growing up. I don't have any memories from before the age of fifteen,” you explained. “I guess there was a really bad car accident. My parents died, turned out it was a mutant hate crime-”

“I didn't realize you were a mutant,” he said softly.

“How else do you think I got my powers?” You scoffed.

“Well, I got mine from a radioactive spider,” he shrugged. “It was this whole thing on a field trip, I'll explain after you're done,” he shrugged, shaking his head and sort of just saying 'nah' with his whole face.

“Okay, you're gonna explain that to me first thing when I'm done. So, anyway, I woke up in the hospital, completely blank memory, and there was this bald guy in a wheel chair that came by not long after, and he took me in to his boarding school, for kids like me.”

“Troublemakers or mutants?” Peter asked.

“Mutants, but of course mutant troublemakers too,” you clarified. “Eventually I graduated, and moved out of the school, even though I could have stayed. I probably would have stayed out of trouble if I had. I moved around a bit, and then I stopped and went to school in California for a while, and then I transferred here, and that's when I started up with the troublemaker stuff again, and then Professor Noble recruited me as her personal assistant for A.I.M. projects, and then we met. Not Peter and Y/n,” you clarified. “Black Light and Spider-Man,” you explained. “On the rooftop that one time. You said my costume was like a kitty cat.”

Peter was surprised. “Professor Noble works for A.I.M.?!”

You nodded. “Then we met in class, and around that time A.I.M. officially recruited me. It started simple, just some small thieving jobs, nothing I hadn't done before, and a few run-ins with you—Spidey—and Daredevil. Then Daredevil beat me in a fight, messing up my ribs, and they forced me to drop out and be Black Light full time on call, and they threatened you and Stacy then I realized I was in too deep with no way out. So, like the selfish asshole I was, I think it was around then I dug myself in deeper and got Harry to team up and help me take Spider-Man down. Ah, shit, wait—I got Harry into it, and then the ribs shit happened, and it just escalated. Tony has a recording of me telling him all the details earlier.” You shook your head, and you whispered. “I shouldn't have done it. Any of it. I'm so sorry, Peter...”

Peter didn't say anything, he was just looking at you. Suddenly he looked off to the side, opening his mouth to speak with just the hint of a half smile.

“I got my powers when I was in highschool,” Peter said. “Not too long after, my uncle Ben died because I didn't use them. He always told me 'with great power, comes great responsibility.'”

You took a slow, deep breath.

“After that, I became Spider-Man. I was obsessed with getting revenge on the guy that killed Uncle Ben, nothing could have stopped me. So I can only imagine how Harry felt when his dad died. And he's never been the most stable guy anyway, he's had some problems, among other things...” Peter sighed. “My point is, you may have nudged him a little, or maybe a lot, but he was on that path already.”

You stared at him, eyes wide.

“What I'm saying is, you could have done better, but it's not all your fault.”

You laughed wetly, and realized you were crying. “I'm so sorry, Peter. I don't want to be the bad guy anymore.”

Peter closed the gap between the two of you and wrapped you in a hug, wincing when you squeezed his ribs just a little too tightly. “It's okay. We're gonna take care of it.”

* * *

 

During your recovery, you were limited to the Avengers compound. He wouldn't tell you the details, but Tony said you wouldn't have to worry about getting in trouble for what you'd done as long as you helped them take down A.I.M.. Apparently he'd gotten the idea from Natasha's own shady past and bargained with some pretty high-up people.  
You met with a therapist provided by Tony almost daily, and then weekly, to help you with your brain damage. It took two years to get to a place where you could write your own name again, but visual puzzles got easier and easier. Tony built you a device that looked like regular glasses to analyze written language and then speak it to you, while Natasha kept you in physical shape, determined to get you out on the field again. Life on the Avengers compound wasn't half bad, and it helped that Stacy lived there for a time, though of course it was more for her safety than out of a desire to keep you company. She was furious with you for a month after finding out the truth, but, life moves on, and you were eternally grateful for her patience on your bad days, the days where you forgot words and could only cry in frustration with yourself.

And, once they knocked down the first pieces, A.I.M. fell like a domino chain. You watched the footage with pleasure, not allowed to help physically take down the AI.M.-Bots, but the day you finally gave testimony against the organization, with Mr. Adams's cold, furious glare on you, was one of the more satisfying days in your recovery.

* * *

 

“Breaking news, Spider-Man and Black Light were spotted teaming up as a duo to rescue passengers from a crashed bullet-train-” Stacy's voice floated from the TV.

“Babe, we're on TV again!” You called from your spot on the couch, a big squishy piece generously gifted by Aunt May. "On Stacy's channel!"

“What is it this time?” Came Peter's voice from the kitchen.

“The bullet-train,” you replied, watching your costumed figures rescuing tiny people from a smoking silver wreck. “This helicopter footage is garbage,” you called over your shoulder again.

“Three years after the disappearance of super-powered ex-villain Black Light, she returns. About six months ago, rumors of her reappearance as a reformed hero began to surface, and in the last month we've gotten a few lucky sightings. It appears she's begun teaming up with long time New York City favorite, Spider-Man. The two are credited with saving one-hundred and twenty-three people from the wreck pictured. Several passengers sustained serious injuries from the crash, but every life was saved by our heroes quick response-”

“Alright, you can come into the kitchen now!”

You clicked off the TV, and went to the next room to find the dining table impeccably set, and Peter hanging up a Spider-Man themed apron you'd bought him as a joke upon moving in together.

“What is all this?”

“I made Thai food, like from that one place we went to a million years ago when we first started dating.”

You wrapped him up in a big hug, burying your face in his chest.

“You're too amazing, Peter.”

“I know. Happy anniversary,” he said, squeezing you tightly and kissing the left side of your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really really hope you all enjoyed this story, it's probably the first thing I've ever finished tbh.
> 
> If you have any requests for a story with characters, reader insert or otherwise, or just a prompt of some kind, you can find me and let me know on tumblr through my sideblog with the url "leafdream"


End file.
